


Wait for it

by NightFallArises



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: 1789 - Freeform, Begging, Discipline, Dom Thomas, Heavy BDSM, M/M, New York City, Some Plot, Sub Alexander, cabinet meetings, slightly non-canon ages
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2020-11-27 00:27:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 55
Words: 274,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20939270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightFallArises/pseuds/NightFallArises
Summary: In a shameless, but not plotless, BDSM smut, Thomas Jefferson and Alexander Hamilton have been enemies in the Cabinet for a year now since it was assembled. Anger and frustration take the reins whenever they are in a room together, but after an intense late night encounter in the Treasury Department, they realize that the line between fury and lust is not as defined as they thought...Their clashing arrogant attitudes lead towards some intense, hot BDSM, Thomas thrusting his dominance upon his sub and making him wait for it, beg for it, and force himself to be good for it.





	1. Damn You, Alexander Hamilton

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! First fanfic ever! The ages of the characters are changed from canon and so are the places of the events (all takes place in New York City). Please be gentle and considerate when commenting, I'm brand new! :) Thank you and enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scouring in the Treasury with Madison for evidence on Alexander, Thomas finds himself unwilling to go home after James does. Thinking about the reason he can't get his mind straight only makes things much harder (quite literally) and leaves him desperately aching, itching, for something his lofty, aristocratic self might actually have to work to get.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> S M U T BDSM! Read on! 😏😉

Thomas Jefferson blinked away the stained yellow tint that remained in his eyes from scouring hours of parchment. His eyes settled on his fellow cabinet member, James Madison's, shoulder length, blonde hair, illuminated by the single candle they were using. Neither man had realized that night had settled upon New York City and their wives were surely waiting at home for their return.

Thomas was just turning his attention back to the treasury documents when James slowly stood up and scooted the chair back. He discreetly stretched his stiff muscles, rolling his neck and speaking to Tom without turning his head to him.  
“Thomas, we've been here for six hours.”  
“With breaks.”

“Thomas.”

James held the bridge of his nose and ran his hands over his eyes.  
“We're not going to find anything in these records. You know that.” Thomas looked up at him from his parchment, his dark hair and brows contrasting greatly with his light skin.

“Actually, I know what I know, Mr. Madison. We just have to begin-”  
“Don't Mr. Madison me. And that's exactly your problem, Thomas, you don't know where to begin. There's simply too much.”

“And when did this become my problem? We both need to find a bullet to put in the gun we're loading on Alex. Unless you want him to force me to resign, of course, and leave you with the southern Democratic Republican party?”

Jefferson irritably turned his head to James, cocking an eyebrow.  
“Now when did you start calling him Alex?”

The question caught him off guard.  
“What?”  
“You called him Alex, Mr. Jefferson. Instead of Hamilton” 

There was a pause. The Secretary of State stood up, sighing, cooly smoothing over his hesitation. “And how is this of any relevance to our current situation?”  
“It's not,” replied James, tossing down his thick bundle of parchment copies of treasury records onto Thomas's desk, “just like these records. We are blindly groping for one needle in a haystack, it's just simply not going to happen."

He walked towards the window and gazed out over the lights of New York, the light breeze tousling his long light hair. “now unless you have a sudden stroke of genius, Tom, I'm going home. I'm sure Dolley is missing me and dinner is long since cold.”

He turned his face to Thomas, awaiting a response. When there was none but a scratching quill, he persisted. “I hope, Mr. Jefferson, that you will do the same. Martha shall surely await your company,” he smirked mischievously, “possibly with... means to take your mind of this whole ordeal for the night. Take no offense, Tom, but you look like you need to get laid. And desperately.” 

Thomas sarcastically laughed and looked from Madison's face to the window. “Go to your wife, James. I'll be here tomorrow afternoon, same time; your ass better be here too. Enjoy your pleasantries, I'm looking a bit longer.”

James Madison made his way to the door of the office, coat in hand.  
He sighed. “My friend, for someone who hides it well, you're an awful lot like him.”

Thomas looked up, Madison's hand rested on the knob of the open door.  
“What?”

James smiled, “Goodnight, Mr. Jefferson. Give Martha my greetings.”  
with a nod, James Madison quietly closed the door and left Thomas Jefferson alone in his office. The Secretary of State could hear Madison's soft footsteps on the padded carpet in the hall, and then silenced enveloped the room once more.

The young Virginian felt another wave of reluctance to go home, especially now that he was alone. When his friend James was by his side, studying parchment just as he, it was a group effort. But now that Madison was gone, surely he should be expected to head home as well.

And once again, Thomas hesitated. Hesitated to even begin thinking of walking through the city streets and to Martha. He hesitated for one reason, and one reason only.  
His mind wandered to where it had been wandering for weeks...

Hamilton. Alexander Hamilton.  
Naturally, his mind had been on Hamilton for a year since the day he met him. His plan for a new form of government, the undeniable growth of the treasury, their heated, bitter rivalry, his short tempered, arrogant, loud-mouthed tendencies to say whatever the fuck was on his mind. 

Of course, these issues had dominated Thomas's mind since he returned from France. Hamilton had been nothing but a threat to Thomas, a hard-headed, pain in the ass obstacle between his views and Washington. They'd never agreed once, all they did was fight for power like rabid dogs. 

But this June, these few weeks in June, were enough to keep Jefferson's mind completely dominated by Hamilton all hours of the day. Thomas was reluctant to admit it to himself, but he could deny it no longer. He hated Hamilton, with a burning, heated, passion. But he couldn't shake it from his mind. How Hamilton was alone this summer. This whole summer. Hamilton was alone. And surely that meant something to Jefferson... but he couldn't say what.

When he thought of this he was rushed by a strong wave of emotions, anger, frustration... a powerful burning that was on the border of... desire. But this couldn't possibly be true. There was no way that he, Thomas Jefferson, a revered native Virginian Secretary of State, could feel any form of desire towards Hamilton, an arrogant, immigrant, creole bastard from the Caribbean.

And yet, when he thought of going home, he was filled with hesitation. When he thought of going home, he thought of Hamilton, alone in his house, all summer. He denied whatever form of desire that was so strongly and frustratingly pulling him towards Hamilton. 

But denial or not, when he heard that name the strong rush of blood entered achingly between his legs and left him in an infuriating place of dissatisfaction and angered lust, so frustrated for Alexander, so hard for him. Alexander Hamilton.

Thomas irritably picked up the parchment and quill again; the twenty-year-old now insatiably hard and full of lust just thinking about that twenty-one-year-old. How he was probably laying alone in his bed right now, maybe naked, maybe playing with himself as Thomas wished he could do now.

Alexander Hamilton. If only he could get that name out of his head. Thomas leaned back in his chair and covered his face with his hands, yawning.  
He caught a glimpse of his bulge and tried to keep hands off.

“Damn you. Damn you Alexander Hamilton.” he snarled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> S M U T BDSM! Read on 😏😉


	2. I Think you Already Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The late night meeting in the Treasury Department... Alexander had just escaped the embrace of Maria Reynolds and raced to the Treasury to get his mind off his declining feelings for her. When he encounters Thomas, exiting from looking at the records earlier that night, things between the two boys heat up and get intense very quickly...

Breathing heavily, Alexander pulled himself away from Maria's embrace. His lips heavy with the taste of hers. Their bodies, slick with sweat from filthy sex and the July heat, were pressed close together on Maria's bed. 

Her weight pressed him to the sheets.  
“What is it, baby?” she gazed down at the young Treasurer's reluctant expression. She tilted her head and ran a finger torturously slowly down his chest. Her lustful eyes burned into his deep brown ones as she pulled his mouth back into hers.

Alexander panted as she slid her tight pussy back down onto his shaft. Chest rising and falling, he suppressed a moan. Something about tonight was wrong, his heart not fully in it.  
“Maria...”  
she stroked his jawline

“Yes, Alex?” she never broke eye contact as she began to slide up and down on Alexander's hard cock, torturously slow, exactly how he liked it, the friction making him whimper.  
“I.. fuck...” his head fell back. He needed to find a way to get out of this tonight, but he couldn't do a damn thing when she was torturing him so perfectly. It was too good.

“Tell me what you want, Alex.” she whispered. He squirmed helplessly. She leaned her head right next to his and breathed in his ear, “Anything you want.” her lips met with his neck.  
“I want... no...”  
“hmm.” she trailed kissed down to his collarbone.

“No, Maria. Stop.”  
Alex found her shoulders and held her away with his shaking hands. She hesitated, looking puzzled by his sudden lack of enthusiasm. “Alex? What's wrong?”

He didn't meet her eyes as he breathed heavily, shaking his head. “I can't, Maria.” he pulled out from her slick pussy, “Not tonight.”  
“Alex, I-” she was cut off as he sat up and moved her off of his lap. He blindly began searching in the bed for his pants, hands roaming the sheets, cursing as he hit his head on the wall bordering the bed.

“Alex, stop. What are you doing?”  
“I'm looking for my clothes, Mrs. Reynolds.”  
“Don't call me that, Alex, please.”  
She grabbed his arm and pulled him to face her. He stopped shuffling in the covers but couldn't bring himself to meet her eyes.

“You know what I mean, Alex. You've hardly looked at me in the eyes once this week and you cum half-heartedly, mouthing somebody else's name.”  
“I-”  
“Don't think I haven't noticed.” 

Alexander looked down at his chest. He searched for an explanation but found none. He couldn't explain to her why he couldn't look in her eyes or say her name as he finished, much less tell her the name he had been uttering...  
“Just stay for the night. That's all I ask, Alex. Just one night-”  
“I can't. Maria.” he moved to swiftly button his shirt up and bent over to slide on his shoes by the bedside.  
“Please, all I want-”  
“Well this isn't really about what you want, now is it?” His voice raised slightly as he very obviously picked up his wallet from the bedside table.

“Alex!”  
“I'm going home, Maria.” he grabbed his coat from the coatrack with some difficulty and shouldered it on over his ruffled shirt. “I'm sorry. Have a good evening, tell your husband hello for me, let 'em know he can finish the job tonight.”  
“Alexander!” she gasped in outraged shock.

But he was already closing the door behind him and standing on the doorstep.  
Alexander Hamilton took a deep breath; the night was cooler than it was when he had arrived at the Reynold's household. There was a pleasant gentle breeze through the streets, making the short trees lining them sigh almost inaudibly.

He stepped down from the door and made a left onto the adjacent street. This was not the way home, he knew. But he was not heading home, he was seeking a clear mind: not a distraction, but an answer. 

The skies were clear, revealing warm, comforting stars, and the city lights grew more welcoming the closer he came to its center. Alex could see candles flicker in windows, and every few seconds a carriage go by drawing sleepy customers. Pubs radiated smells and sounds of men singing and laughing. The sights and sounds of the city were comforting to him as his feet took him on a journey through its blocked streets. This comfort was much needed as he began to shoulder the difficult task of understanding his own recent peculiarities. 

Something had been different the past week this July.  
He had become quite used to his daily schedule this summer. By day he was the Secretary Treasury New Yorker, mercilessly arguing his government plan to assume state's debts and establish a national bank: tedious work that he enjoyed. Nowhere did he feel more belonging than in the Cabinet room, fighting for his plan, rising up for his country.  
He loved everything from the orderly fashion of the seating to the heated cabinet debates, where he could prove his worth.

By night, Alex was either at home; writing, reading, or in the company of miss Maria Reynolds.  
And that was where he was perplexed. 

Despite his settlement into this routine, he had suddenly started to feel a different dynamic taking place in both aspects of his world, the Cabinet room and Maria's bedroom. Something had shifted and he needed to place his finger on what it was.  
His lack of enthusiasm was all but inexplicable in her bed, he found himself insatiable for the most part, for an hour even. Alexander took no pleasure in undignifying and degrading Maria, but he simply knew that he was longing for something different. Something he knew was very... specific, but he didn't know what.

Irritable once again, cock still frustrated from stopping so abruptly with Maria, flustered, Hamilton finally stopped his walk. Looking up, he realized immediately where he was and why his body had subconsciously taken him there; he was standing outside the Treasury Department, his Treasury Department.

“The place where I do my best thinking. Touché.” he muttered to himself as he stared up at its marbled walls and rows of windows. Curiously, at this hour one was lit by weak candlelight. "Fuckwit..." Alex sighed at someone's thoughtlessness and made a mental note to put it out before he left.  
But for now, he needed to go to his office and write. Write his way to a conclusion, an answer, closure. Write his way out.

He entered the familiar building and strolled to his large office which he usually kept locked with a heavy key. He fit the key into the lock and pushed open the heavy mahogany doors to reveal his familiar workspace, the desk near the window with stacked bookshelves lining the entire room, shelves of novels and his own thousands of pages and pamphlets and drafts of writings.

Sighing, he sat at his desk, prepared a new length of parchment, and began writing. 

He did not know how much time had passed when he heard a soft noise in the hall outside his door... Footsteps.  
And then they stopped.  
Hamilton curiously looked up from his work, the twenty-one-year-old adjusting the glasses on his face.

Slowly his office door cracked and let in a thin shaft of light. Cautiously, the person outside opened the rest of the door and stepped inside the reaches of the office. 

“Well, well, well. Mr. Hamilton still at work at this hour?”

Alex was bombarded by a strange rush of emotions as he heard the southern drawl and saw the candle-illuminated face of Thomas Jefferson, standing in his office. Late at night.  
Alone. 

“ Jefferson.” he replied with a coldness not even New York's Decembers could match, trying to mask his surprise. This was an unusual encounter, especially because the man usually avoided him at all costs. He glared loathingly into the eyes of his enemy, seeing the fire of the candlelight flicker within them.  
“What are you doing here so late at night, Thomas?”

“It's Secretary Jefferson, Hamilton.” he lifted his nose loftily, "And I could ask the same thing to you." Thomas responded as he took slow steps towards Alexander's desk, calmly smiling and leisurely scanning the room like he was admiring the decorating.

"Well, Jefferson, this happens to be my fucking office." He scoffed incredulously, but Thomas ignored him

His eyes landed on Alex and he halted suddenly, lip curling in distaste.  
“My god, Alex, come into an encounter with some weather tonight?” he looked him up and down, taking in the messiness of his clothing and hair. Alexander silently cursed himself. It clearly looked like he had been in an intense meeting with a woman and had not bothered to clean himself up. 

At Jefferson's observation, Alex bristled in anger and felt the familiar rage of being in close quarters with Jefferson arise.  
But something... was different. As anger boiled up, so did another emotion that was very similar to it: lust. What the fuck? He quickly tried to suppress the thought, not wanting to even know where it had come from. He was just horny and tired, that's all. Tonight had been odd--this was odd--it was just a bunch of fucked up hormones.

“Sorry, can you read? This is MY office, Jefferson. Why are you even here? What the hell do you want?”  
Thomas smirked and stepped around the desk to Alex's side. Alexander immediately rose out of his chair to meet his challenger's eyes. Despite being a hell of a lot shorter, he glared into Jefferson's gaze, fire eminent in both of theirs. 

“That's a wide question, Hamilton.” he breathed lowly. What was up with this guy? Christ, sometimes Alexander had to use every ounce of self restraint he had not to slip the man's lip.  
“It was a question, so start talking.”

“ What makes you think I'm going to respond to that?”  
“You seem to have no problem talking in front of the Cabinet.”

“And coming from the loud-mouth bastard.”  
“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

Alexander fumed, outraged at this sudden encounter of disrespect. He'd come in for one alone moment and then Jefferson, Thomas Jefferson of all people, strolls in like he owns the Realestate and calls him a- a bastard!? Who did he think he was, why was he doing this now? The thoughts swirled in his storming mind.

“Why are you here, spit it out or by God I-”  
“You what?” Jefferson cut him off, smirking.

In the heat of the argument, the back and forth taunts being fired ruthlessly, Alexander had hardly noticed the space between them had been completely erased. His eyes saw nothing but the rage in Jefferson's. He could feel his breath on his lips...

“You'll make me?” he smirked, clearly amused by the idea.  
He gazed down at Hamilton condescendingly and laughed through his nose. “I'd like to see that one day.” 

It was the final straw, and Hamilton, finally engulfed by his rage and exhilarating emotions, snapped.  
With a deep-throated noise of fury, he rushed at Jefferson and collided into him with a loud smack. They stumbled to the wall by the door, hitting the wood hard. Hamilton slammed Jefferson into it, one arm across his chest clenching the material at his shoulder, the other hard on his warm throat.

The little Alexander could hardly comprehended what he'd just done. To a federal Cabinet member.  
Holy fuck...  
If Jefferson wanted to, he could end the Treasurer's career. Right there, right then. 

There was an electric silence and they stood for a moment, breathing heavily, glaring into the other's eyes. Hamilton could feel the heat radiating from Jefferson's neck, feel his pulse as his heart accelerated its beat. Both of their chests rapidly rose and fell, heaving as their faces hovered heatedly close together.

“I will make you.” he managed shakily, trying to uphold his strength under the cool glare of a man, a dangerously powerful man, that Alex somehow knew had an intensely dominant nature.

the expression on Thomas's face changed from surprise to something completely different. It was an inexplicable mix of anger, a challenge, a dare... pleasure, frustrated lust. Hamilton knew it was in his eyes too. Fuck. What was happening?

He... wanted Jefferson. He more than wanted Jefferson. He craved him. And suddenly, out of the oblivion of nothingness, he was starving for him. He loathed him, and he wanted to let him force him to beg and whimper helplessly on the floor for more. Blood helplessly rushed to his member as the thoughts of his true desires consumed him. God he wanted Thomas, and he forgot everything he knew about him.

As heat pooled heavily in the bottom of his belly and his bulge swelled, it was met by the searing warmth of another. Alex looked down, shocked, to the place they were meeting and grew even harder, appalled at the delicious size of Jefferson through his pants.

"Fuck-"  
"Thwack!"  
He could barely finish his thought when he was absolutely surprised by a stinging smack across his face; his head snapped to the side. 

There was a moment or ringing silence. Blinking, stunned, he realized that Thomas Jefferson had slapped him. Thomas Jefferson had slapped him right across the mouth like he was a filthy animal.

“Eyes. Up.” Thomas threatened darkly. Hamilton suppressed a needy sound as he got harder. Something about the way he talked and hit him so torturously... he was weak. Absolutely and completely weak. A deep-throated growl resounded in Thomas's chest as he spoke.

“You asked what I want, Hamilton.”  
Thomas shoved Alexander off his chest. He stumbled backwards over his own feet but Jefferson matched him and seized him roughly by the hair, tilting his eyes to meet his blazing ones.

“I think you already know.”  
He smirked mercilessly and forcefully let go of Hamilton, leaving him alone in his office, staring, unbelievably baffled at the place Thomas was just standing.

For moments after, he couldn't believe the shit that had just gone down. Not three hours ago he had been in a dilemma about what he wanted. What would finally satisfy him. And somehow, now, after being slapped raw and snarled at by his POLITICAL enemy...

He thought he knew...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned! Next chapter coming soon :)
> 
> -NightFall


	3. Not a Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next morning Alex awakes in denial of his encounter with Thomas, but realizes just how real it is when he has some fun with himself after a nice brunch with Laurens...

Alexander Hamilton awoke the next morning and rolled onto his back to stare at the top of the canopy bed he ususally shared with Eliza, but was now amply more spacious. He blinked as his groggy mind returned from sleep, half-mindedly searched for any memory of his dream last night (a little morningly ritual of his). 

Alex hesitated, slightly perplexed. He remembered going to Maria's house last night, but he didn't remember coming home after that.  
He squinted; he still remembered having a dream though: going to the treasury, writing a note alone in his office when suddenly...  
The Caribbean man sprung up to a sitting position in bed, hands on either side of him anchoring into the sheets, breathing restlessly as memory bombarded his thoughts. It couldn't be, no fucking way. Eyes widening, he calmed himself as he remembered the storyline of his dream. He was writing at his desk when Thomas Jefferson... the argument, the anger, pinning to the wall... the slap... 

Alex briskly shook his head and blinked. This was crazy. A dream is all it was, nothing else, he thought as he took a sip from a water glass on his bedside table. A stupid dream after having a weird night with Maria. Wouldn't be the first time this week.  
The water cleared his mind as he emerged from the thick blankets and stepped onto the floor, heading towards his bathroom to wash his face. 

He had planned to have Sunday brunch with Laurens and he wasn't going to be late this time. Last time he had slept in so long that by the time he bothered to get up, Laurens had-  
“Shit! What the-”

Alex's thoughts were discontinued as the bottom of his foot came into painful contact with something small and hard on the floor. Surprised and stinging, he looked down, irritably rubbing his foot to see what he's stepped on.  
His jacket from last night was laying splayed out on the floor, discarded with the metal button's facing up. “Great.”, he huffed as he begrudgingly collected it from the floor and hopped to the closet to hang it with the rest of his coats. He slipped it onto a hanger and replaced it in its home, and when he turned back around, he noticed something had fallen out from the pocket, a fresh-looking piece of parchment. 

Curiously, he bent to pick it up and uncrinkle its wrinkled face. 

As his eyes began to scan the page, his mouth dopped.  
His mind jumped with disbelief and recognition.

It was the bit he had been writing in his “dream”. His dream about Jefferson. His dream that was clearly not one, as he was holding in his very hands the paper he had written in the Treasury Department. It was very much real.  
And... he gulped. 

That meant so was the encounter with Jefferson. 

***  
Brunch had been a welcome distraction from the mishaps of that morning, John had been the one to show up late this time to the small cafe, and much to Alex's joy as he took advantage of the wonderful circumsance to mock John for hypocrisy. John sat down giving Alex a certain finger as the waiter came by (shooting concerned looks) as the two jested. 

Alex was already on a tangent about the disputed location of the nation's capitol and the ludicrousy of the anti-federalists when their water arrived (“Ah, thank you, waiter, this water is lovely, really top-notch. Alex, do shut up.”). By the time they had finished eating an absurd amount of food, Alexander was in high spirits and the situation that morning was all but in the back of his mind now. 

“Tavern tonight, Laurens?” he inquired as they were leaving.  
“Does the sun tend to rise in the morning?”  
“What?”  
“Yes, Alex, the answer is yes.” he rolled his eyes, “Are Herc and Lafayette gonna be there?”  
“Are you ugly as shit today?”  
“Excuse me?”  
“Yes, the answer is yes John.”  
Laurens flashed him a mocked look of hatred as they moved to hug each other and give one another a brotherly slap on the back. “See ya tonight, John.”  
“See ya, Ham.” And they parted ways back home.

***

“Stupid, stupid, stupid.” The immigrant muttered to himself as he balled up a crisp piece of parchment. This was not the first sheet that had met this demise as Alexander Hamilton worked five hours that afternoon. The sun was now beginning to set, casting golden light through the window of his home onto everything in his office. His desk, his bookshelves, the growing pile of half-inked-up parchment on the floor. 

He had lost track of how long he had been writing, as per usual. He didn't have to write anything toady, it was Sunday, but he knew he wouldn't stop writing unless God himself grabbed him by the collar and dragged him from his desk. 

Nothing seemed to be coming out right today, the points that he had perfectly organized in his head for this report for Washington looked like a disaster on the paper, and after each one he scoured it for several seconds before tossing it atop the last.  
He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his palms over his face, frustrated with his lack of productability. Why was he so distracted? Maybe if he was working in his office at the Treasury Department...

His breath hitched as the thought of his office there. The last moments he had spent in there. With Thomas Jefferson...  
His thoughts wandered to the scene last night. He knew he shouldn't want to think about it, but he was dying to remember. How it felt when the Virginian had pulled his hair, the surprising pleasure from the slap across the mouth, the searing heat as their cocks pressed against the other man's. 

A dull heat immediately began to pool at the bottom of Alex's belly. He looked down at his half-hard cock. Letting out a shaky breath, he ran his fingers through his hair. What was this? What was he wanting and why did he want it? At the moment he didn't really care as he took his clothed dick in his hands and slowly and gently began to stroke, needy for some sort of friction as relief. 

“Thomas...” he gently whispered as he leaned his head back, grinding his hips against his hand. He couldn't believe what the hell he was doing it. He couldn't believe himself. The desperation for friction became more intense and he hastily and clumsily kicked his pants off and sat back down in his office chair. He took his fully hard cock in his hand and started stroking faster.  
It should've felt good but something was... missing. Something was unsatisfying about what he was doing. Then it hit him. “This isn't how Thomas would do it,” he thought, “This is how Maria would do it.”

“Thomas wouldn't let me have it...” 

He slowed his strokes down until it was basically torture of his throbbing cock. With the other hand's thumb, he swirled tiny, light circles around the head of his dick, ghosting over the slit just so that he could barely feel it. With the precum that was there he slicked it over the sensitive head.  
“Fuck...”, he whimpered.

He needed to go faster so badly, but somehow he knew that Thomas wouldn't let him. He would...

Alex knew exactly what he would do. Thomas would punish him for being so naughty. For doing this right in the open at his desk, the door unlocked like a little slut.  
At his own thoughts, Alex released a needy high pitched whine that nobody needs to know about. “Yes,” he decided in his head, “Thomas would call me those things.” 

stroking deeper, but still not enough, he raised his other hand and lightly smacked it on his thigh, testing the waters. 

“Oh God.”  
He knew immediately this was so fucking good. The shock from the sting ignited him, urged him to go faster, grip harder.  
“Oh fuck...” he moaned as he brought his hand down again, harder this time with more confidence. He was in love with the way it felt, it couldn't be described. 

A sudden heat rose up from a place he had never felt such urgent need from before. Intruiged and in hasty desperation, he reached under himself and ghosted his finger over his sensitive opening. He shivered and started to stroke his absolutely throbbing cock faster. Squirming at his own touch, he breathed and tentatively pushed one finger in to the first knuckle. 

His eyes snapped open with the sharp flood of pleasure. This new pleasure was so fucking good, he slowly moved the finger in and out as he furiously stroked. 

He wanted another finger in. So badly. But he thought of Thomas standing in front of him. He wouldn't let him. “You want it you filthy whore? I can tell by the way you're wimpering. You can't even stand it, you want another one so bad but not until daddy says so.”

He imagined Thomas leaning in towards him, “You've been a bad boy. Bad boys don't get what they want. I'll just stand here and watch you squirming, struggling to cum.”  
That image in his head threw Alex over the edge. 

“Thomas!” He screamed obscenely loudly and pushed his finger all the way in, as far as it could go. The pressure became unbearable then was released all at the same time as he came powefully all over his hand, the liquid warm on his skin. 

For a few moments, Alexander sat quietly, heavy panting heaved his chest as he came down from the ecstacy of his orgasm. He blinked and drew in a shaky breath. “Holy shit...” he said out loud to the empty house.  
Bewildered, he glanced sideways at the grandfather clock standing near a shelf; it was nearly time to head to the tavern with his friends. Still in a bit of a trance, he cleaned his hands and pulled his pants back over his weak legs. 

Somehow he knew this summer was not going to be like any he'd had before...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned for more upcoming chapters! Thanks for reading, you guys :)
> 
> -NightFall


	4. Burr's Message

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lighthearted night at the tavern turns ominous as Aaron Burr stops by with a disturbing story...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't panic, smut is close ahead! Next chapter coming out VERY soon! :) Read on!

“...And then,” Hercules Mulligan tries to continue his story, his whole body racking with laughs.  
Laurens, Lafayette and Alexander were leaning into each other, sides splitting from the excessive wheezing.

“Listen, listen, and THEN he walks straight up to him.” Herc does a straigh faced impression of Alex, “And Alex PUNCHES the man right in the jaw!” He mocks a punching motion as he bellows with laughter. The rest of the friends slap their palms onto the table, wheezing so hard almost no sound comes out. 

“T-The man looked at me like I was stupid.” Alex fought the words out through gasps, wiping a tear of laughter from his eye. Laurens slapped him on the back.  
“Alex? Stupid?” Lafayette piped up, “Of course not. Any smart man would punch the bursar!” They all roared with laugher.  
As they heaved, their drinks arrived and they all grabbed them messily.

“Let us raise a glass to Alex,” Laurens faked a British accent, and raised his pinkie, “And to his elegant intelligence.”  
“I'll drink to that.” Lafayette raised his glass which met the others with a clink. They laughed one last time and took a deep swig of their whisky, all pleasurably happy in the warm tavern bathed in gentle warm light from the fireplace, the talking and laughter of other people giving it a cozy environment. 

The door of the Tavern swung open suddenly; a tall figure appeared in its frame. The friends turned their heads and craned to view the newcomer who was removing his hat.

“Well, well, well, Aaron Burr!” Hercules called loudly over the voices in the tavern. Burr looked around, slightly startled, until he saw the table he was being called at from. He broke out into a smile and made his way to them, narrowly dodging a bartender.

“Laurens, Mulligan, Lafayette, Hamilton.” he nodded at each of them, sitting down. “Burrrrr.” The boys chorused back at him.  
“Well come right on in, then.” Alex muttered inaudibly to himself. 

Alexander had never been one for Burr. Being polar oppossites in basically every area they had touched, Alex had grown to dislike Burr, and Burr him. Their friends were mutual but the two of them were in constant dispute over anthing and everything. Burr was a frustrating, reticent un-opinionated man, everything that Hamilton was not. 

“What's new in town, brother?” Laurens inquired as he took another swig of his whisky. “Ah same old, John. Senate work day and night.”  
“Ahh, come on Burr. Drop some knowledge, oui?” Lafayette nudged Burr in the side.  
“Really boys, there's nothing new.” Burr reached across the table, lazily and took hold on Alex's whisky. He brought it to his mouth and casually took a swig. Alex felt his face begin to burn with annoyance. 

“Although...” 

Burr looked at them, a slight hint of darkness in his eyes. the friends all perked up at the sound of Burr having some gossip. He looked cautiously side to side, “Have you heard about Henry McCoy and Charles Conway?” 

the friends exchanged glances curiosly. “No, who's that?” Laurens inquired eagerly. Alex scoffed at their childlike behavior.  
Burr looked from side to side again and leaned in towards the center of the table, Laurens, Herc and Lafayette gravitated towards him as Alex rolled his eyes and followed their lead. 

“Sodomites.” Burr whispered the word like it could summon the devil himself. Burr shivered a little bit. “Gay. The both of them. Conway's wife came home from a visit early and found them... doing things...” 

Lafayette's eyes widened. He gulped, “What happened to them...?” 

“Well,” Burr shuffled and leaned closer, fully engaged in his story, “Of course, horrified, she ran right to the nighbors who summoned the police. By now the whole block was looking on to the commotion. He dragged them out of the house and people shouted and threw things at the sodomites. Then..." Burr paused. 

"He hung them.”

Herc gasped. “For real? Hung them right in front of everyone?”  
“You bet. Heard they held each other the entire way there.”

Alex was silent with shock. “That's... horrible.”

“It's pathetic.” Burr scoffed as he slowly leaned back from the tight bundled group. He continued in a normal voice. “A stop had to be put to it.”  
“Well, there's no question how you feel about gays.” Alex mumbled into his whisky as he sipped.  
“No question at all. Nobody should question it. It's an abomination of human nature. If I ever met one, I'd-”  
“You'd what, Burr?” Alex looked across the table at him, cocking his head sarcastiacally. “You'd sit around and wait for someone tell you what to do.” If anyone's pathetic, it's you, Alex thought.  
Burr glanced to the side of Alex as if he hadn't even spoken to him. He sighed and cheerfuly excaimed, “Well, would you look at the time! I best be getting back, there's a report on my desk that needs some attention.” standing up, he placed his hat back on his head. “Goodnight boys, have another round for me, will ya?” 

“If you insist Burr.” Lafayette laughed and gestured towards Burr with his glass. Soon burr was gone and it was just the four friends sitting in considerably more silence. They were clearly thinking about what Burr had said and were shaken by it. 

Laurens slowly exhaled. “So... that was... unsettling?”  
“Yeah.” Hercules agreed and nodded. 

“We're all thinking it, I'm just saying it.” Alex piped up and looked around the group, “We know what Burr thinks of sodomites but what do we?” he prompted like a school teacher. 

“Well,” Laurens immediately started, “I need to know more before I make any decisions... It's like slavery in a way. We're okay with people punishing and ridiculing them until we really get INSIDE the issue and see how horrible punishing them is.” Alex could see the passion in Jonh's eyes as he spoke about the sorrows of slavery. He had a point with this analogy.  
“I am with John. It is unusual, it seems weird, but I do not know enough. One secondhand story from Burr is not enough.” Lafayette carried on the point in his heavily accented voice. 

Alex nodded and set his drink on the table, staring down into the bottom of it like it could provide the answers he so desperately needed. This whole ordeal, this whole story from Burr wouldn't have shaken him so deeply if it didn't apply directly to him in the past two days. This thing with Jefferson... where would it go if he carried out his true desires? To heaven in the bedroom or to the noose? 

He sighed a shaky breath and closed his eyes. 

Alex didn't know.


	5. I Know About the Letter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas sees Alexander has left the keys to his office in his door, and while going to return them notices that Alexander is not heading home at all. Thomas follows him to the Reynolds' household. Racing back to the treasury and finding the Reynolds Letter in Hamilton's desk, Thomas decides that Hamilton must be PUNISHED... and he's going to be the one to do it...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BIG time smut next chapter. Setting the scene for the rest of the story, thanks for being patient! Next chapter coming SOON! Stay tuned! :)

The next morning, Alexander Hamilton woke and called upon Eliza's housemaid to draw up a bath. The aging woman curtsied and backed out of the room to begin on the lengthy process it required. Alex heard her footsteps pattering and then silence. 

Stretching, he rose from his sleepy state and starting making the bed, a task he loathed and avoided whenever possible, although Eliza usually caught him and dragged him back in to force him to do it, whining and complaining (“Housemaid, Eliza! We have a housemade!”, “You know what else you have, Alxander? A serious lack of virtue.”)  
Still wearing his night clothes, he furtively descended the stairs and tiptoed into his office. 

The young immigrant began to shuffle among his things on his desk, collecting his papers and squatting down to fit them in his bag in a semi-organized fashion. That was when he caught sight of his report from last afternoon. “Dammit.” he groaned, sliding it from his desk to the bag. The half finished report was sloppy at best, he'd have to come up with some excuse for Washington at the Cabinet meeting tomorrow. God knows Alex couldn't tell Washington of the true distraction that diverted him from his work...  
“Mr. Hamilton?”  
“Shit!” He exclaimed as he stood up quickly and hit his head on the edge of his desk. “Oh! I'm so sorry for frightening you, I wanted to inform you that your bath is ready, sir. My apologies...”  
Alex gingerly rubbed his head, blinking. “Uh, thanks. I'll get right to it.” He walked awkwardly by her in his less-than-presentable night clothing and headed upstairs for the bath. 

He was already fully undressed when he realized he had left his brush in his room, casually walking from bathroom to bedroom, he felt a draft and turned his head to see the open window. “The fuck...” he grumbled irritably as he moved to close it. 

Hands on the shutters, he peeked outside to the street below, it was a clear but windy day, the city already at work on a Monday, and Alex noticed two men walking down the street. Peering closer, squinting without his glasses, he didn't realize who they were until they were practically under the house. 

“Fuck!” he hissed as he slammed the shutters closed. It had been James Madison in the company of Thomas Jefferson, casually strolling to work. 

And Thomas Jefferson had seen him. 

***

“Honestly, James, I have no idea why you drag me into this every week.”  
“It's good for you, Thomas. Smell the fresh air. Look at the sights.”  
“All I smell is the horse shit to the right of me and- oh look! Another load of crap to the left.”  
“For goodness sake, Thomas, it's amazing the amount of complaining you do. You should run for Secretary of State sometime.”  
“Very funny, Madison. I'd watch out I can still kick the horse shit at you.”  
“Warning taken, you ridiculous child.”

Similar exchanges between the two friends every single Monday when Madison would drag Thomas on a walk to work instead of taking a carriage. Thomas protested loudly the whole way there, and today the route was unusually long because they weren't headed to their usual offices, they were headed to the Treasury to do some more tedious digging around Hamilton's government spendings. 

Thomas had been hesitant to go back to the Treasury today. For reasons that he had been thinking about nonstop for the past two nights. The issue surrounded encountering Hamilton... After what had happened between them, whatever it was, what would he say if he saw him? What words could possibly be appropriate under the current circumstances?  
Plus, if Hamilton was there, Thomas knew that Alex would seek him out and question him (being the impatient, hasty asshat that he is) and Thomas knew that he wouldn't be able to control himself alone with Alex. He'd want Alex under him, on his body, and strangely he felt that Hamilton would want the same. 

If Thomas couldn't stop thinking about Hamilton before, he certainly never left his mind now. His hate for the man was all but more inflamed by their rushed little showdown in the office, how dare the bastard treat him like that? He had no idea who he was talking to, and the disrespect absolutely shocked him more than anything. Thomas had found himself longing to teach the man a lesson, to show the immigrant some discipline for being the impatient, insufferable little prick that he knew him to be. These desires were new and obnoxiously sudden, Thomas needed more time to sort them out, to figure out what he truly wanted, but here the were, walking to the Treasury. 

“Ah, the pest's house himself.” 

Thomas looked up, breaking his train of thought. They were walking by the Hamilton household, he realized abruptly. His heart skipped a beat and he tried to surruptitiously observe it. It was definitely beautiful. It had a lot of windows all the way up to the top, and-

“What the fuck?” Thomas hissed to himself. His eyes widened, as he actually comprehended what he was looking at. In the window of the top floor stood the figure of Alexander Hamilton himself, and though he could only view from the waist up, Thomas could tell that he was absolutely and completely naked. 

A breath hitched in his throat as he gaped at the man hungrily. Despite the distance, he could observe the smaller man's toned shape, not unnaturally perfect, just very human and clearly strong. His hair spilled onto his shoulders and his dark, intelligent eyes peered down at the street.

Before he could see much more, Alexander Hamilton had abruply slammed the shutters closed, leaving Thomas with nothing to see other than his thoughts that had been in the back of his mind but were now apparent. He hated Alexander Hamilton. God, he hated him more than anyone else he had ever been forced to deal with. His cockiness, his arrogance, his intolerable aggression. 

But by God did Thomas Jefferson want that insufferable bastard. 

***

It was about three-o-clock, six hours with their noses in the pages of the Treasury records when a messenger arrived for Mr. James Madison. At first he had set it aside, not thinking much of it, until Thomas offhandedly reminded that he should read it, his face still pressed to a parchment document. 

As Madison began to scan the words, his face drained and became pale.  
“James?”, Thomas inquired. He set down his paper and removed his glasses, “James, what is it?” 

Madison recounted to Thomas the contents of the letter, that his wife Dolley was at the docter with a broken ankle from the stairs. He apologized profusely for having to leave.  
“I understand,” Thomas replied calmly, starting to collect the scattered documents and file them back in their respective folders, “we can finish early today. My eyes were beginning to see new colors anyway.” 

James was already shouldering on his coat, “Thank you, Thomas. I'm sorry about this. I wish I could help clean up.”  
“Don't worry, there'll be plenty of work for you to do tomorrow.” Thomas winked reasurringly and was rewarded by a warm smile from James. “Until tomorrow.”  
“Until tomorrow.” And he was gone. 

Thomas sighed as he finished organizing the information, and stood from his chair stiffly. Grabbing the files, he finally exited the small office on the second floor and descended the stairs to re-file the records in their proper room. Once they had been carefully restocked, he brushed off his hands and turned the corner towards the main door, happy to leave the department and have some tea at home.

He stopped in his tracks as he was about to pass Hamilton's office, though. He was not contemplating going in there, not at all, but because the tall mahogany doors were both wide open, very uncharacteristic of Hamilton.  
“Strange...”

Curiously and cautiosly, Thomas Jefferson inched towards them, peering inside. Hamilton was nowhere to be seen, he had clearly left only a minute ago, he could tell by the still-smoking candles. Very odd... it was too early for him to be leaving his Department, he surely had plenty of work to do.

Pulling his head out from the office, and closing the doors, Thomas took note of another oddity. The key used to open them was sitting, still fitted into the lock, just sticking out for the whole world to see!  
He sighed. “Ass-for-brains idiot,” Thomas muttered. He hurriedly glanced from side to side as he slid the key from the lock, holding the cold, heavy thing in his hands before pocketing it. 

“He couldn't've gone far...” he reasoned as he strode with a brisk pace towards the main doors of the Treasury. People milled about the lobby and he weaved through them as he exited the marble building onto the white steps leading up to it. Once he was on the steps he glanced around wildlly, scouring the bustling city sidewalks for any sight of the short Treasurer. With his high vantage point, he just barely spotted Alexander as he turned the corner of the street. 

Stumbling down the steps, Thomas entered the city crowds, dodging between people and apologizing for bumping into them as he frantically kept his head up for Alexander. Nearly swamped, he turned onto the street Alex was on, a much quieter street, but hesitated, puzzled. 

This wasn't the way home for him, Thomas knew, because he had walked by the route only this morning. 

Alex wasn't going home, Thomas realized with an odd start. 

He had left work early on a Monday to rush off to somewhere else...?  
“Where do you think you're going, Alexander Hamilton?” Thomas murmured to himself, a dark smirk spreading across his face.   
Thomas waited a few more seconds for the man to get another head start as he quickly made the decision to follow him...

They wound through backstreets for a short distance, less than a mile, before Alex stopped at a stout and old looking house with faded sides and uneven wooden steps. Thomas's feet were already hurting from the short distance and he silently cursed Madison for the walking this morning as he watched Alexander Hamilton look up and down the street several times before gingerly climbing the steps. 

Both Alex and Jefferson looked out of place here, both in fine expensive coats and shined shoes, while Alex stood on the weathered doorstep of this beaten old house and Jefferson shamefully concealed himself behind an overgrown bush that had surpassed a fence. It was rather comical, rather ridiculous. Thomas's strongly aristocratic nature mad him so averse to this that he could sneer. 

Thomas Jefferson paid close attention as the door creaked open and... a woman emerged from the reaches of the house.  
Knitting his eyebrows, the Virginian observed the puzzling scene with undivided attention. The sky had grown cloudy since the morning and now the breeze had spittled a few drops of mist onto his skin.  
The woman smiled as Alexander looked her up and down. She reached out her hand and he took it, entrapping him in her gaze. She backed up slowly and seductively as she pulled him into the house with her. He quietly swung the door closed behind them. 

And all at once it converged on Jefferson. 

All at once it hit him, like the rain that had started pouring as the sky suddenly opened up.

The woman, the disheveled Hamilton two nights ago, the lack of any misdeeds in his treasury records.  
It was all because there was nothing in the treasury records in the first place. They were looking in the wrong place the whole time.  
This whole time...

Thomas Jefferson slipped his hand into his pocket and felt the cold metal key against his skin. He turned it over three times as the rain began to wet his hair and clothing, chilling him. He knew exactly what to do. 

Running down the streets to the treasury was quicker this time, the sidewalks were cleared because of the sudden storm as he thundered his way, block by block closer and closer. His soaked shoes wetly smacked the cobblestone with every painful stride, the aching sensation crawling up his calves. But he kept running.  
He had his mind set on it. He knew it. He had found the root of Hamilton's sins. That bastard. After all this searching, he knew exactly where to go. 

Taking the steps three at a time, he glided up the treasury stairs and into the warm building, safe from the rain and wind which had rapidly picked up in the past few minutes. Not wanting to draw any attention from the workers in the lobby, he slowed himself to a speed-walk down the carpeted hall and turned the corner to Hamilton's office. 

Fumbling with the key, he felt uncharacteristically impatient as he finally slipped it into the keyhole and turned, unlocking the office and bursting in to the dark room beyond. 

Thomas felt his way haphazardly to Hamilton's desk and groped around for a candle and matches, which he lit only one of before setting it down and continuing his desperate search.  
Lightning flashed outside, revealing the whole room for a split second before going dark again. Thunder grumbled close behind. 

Thomas pulled open the first drawer and fingered through its contents. He did the same with the one below it. “Files, files, files, foreign affairs, files, investments, files...”  
He only paused his reckless movement when he intruded in the bottom-most drawer. 

Everything went still.

Everything felt quiet.

There was nothing in it but a single opened letter, a red seal on the lip which he did not recognize.  
Slowly and shakily, the Secretary of State reached into the drawer and gingerly took hold of the letter. The seal was of the Reynolds Family. He pulled the real content out of the envelope and, heart thumping in his chest, started to read the first lines. 

“Secretary Hamilton,

My dear sir, you may have heard about me from my wife, Mrs. Maria Reynolds. I am James Reynolds. I hope this letter comes to you in good health...”

With every sentence the Virginian's eyes widen. His mouth drops with every paragraph. He can't believe it. He can't fucking believe it. Despite every urge to tear up the parchment, he keeps reading. And the more he does so, the more quickly his eyes fill up with spots of rage so he can seldom read at all. His fists tighten around the letter.

Lightning flashes outside.

Thunder rattles New York City. 

Rain pelts the windows of the office in which stand the purely furious Virginian.

He has punishment on his mind. He has Alexander Hamilton on his mind.  
This man is a self centered, arrogant, obnoxious bitch. Someone needed to teach him a lesson.

And it was going to be Thomas Jefferson.


	6. Misbehaving, are We?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas is on Alexander's doorstep when he gets home, livid and ready to shove the Reynolds letter in his face. Fighting, tumbling into the house, it is not long before anger turns to lust, and they are tumbling into the bedroom, Thomas ready to punish Alexander for his misbehavior.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> S M U T ! About time! Next chapters on their way, please comment if you enjoy this! :) Thanks for reading!

Alexander Hamilton hunched over to face the rain as he walked closer to the city. He was soaking wet in one of the only nice coats that he owned and his shoes were caked with mud.  
He shivered and held his arms tighter to his body, trying futilely to warm himself up. Only a little closer to the city and he'd be able to hail a carriage home. 

The evening with Maria had been just as useless. He had come, he had gone, nothing had happened. She tried to initiate something several times and he had not given in.  
They talked and all the while he had been observing. Observing her, observing this woman who he had had a spark for, but now that she was his, he no longer felt anything.

Alex was an ambitious man. He loved the chase, the competition. Maria had thrown herself in his arms and Alex had won the hunt so... easily. Something about that didn't sit right with him. She wasn't what he wanted anymore.  
Deciding this at last was a relief he had been wanting to feel for a week now, she was only using him for money and it was time that he ended this whole affair. Tomorrow maybe... 

Finally chasing down a carriage a mile from his home, Alex clambered in, a wet lump of shivering fabric. It was much warmer in there and the cushions were comfortable.  
By the time the wheels started rocking down the street, he felt like he was going to collapse into sleep, just watching the rain patter on the small windows...

He hardly got to watch for long before his deep lull was broken by the halt of the carriage. Breaking out of his sleepy trance, Alex huffed, stretching his neck, and pushed open the door to the rainy night.  
He paid the driver and hastily, cringing away from the cold rain, and made way for his porch keeping his head down and his shoulders hunched over. 

By the time he reached the steps and looked up... it was too late. Too late to turn back around. Too late to comprehend what he was seeing with his own eyes.

Alex's breat caught in his throat. His heart plummeted into his stomach.  
Unbelievingly, he gazed up at the tall dark haired figure looming in front of him. He was leaning against the door, clothes just as wet as Alex's, his black eyes burning unblinkingly back at the Treasurer. He looked tired, like he had just been running, his shoes were muddy and his hair was slicked back, but he was standing so unnaturally calmly, arms crossed across his chest. And that was when Alex saw it. 

An unrolled piece of parchment in one hand, and an open envelope in the other... a bloodred seal dangling from its lip.  
He calmly uncrossed his arms. “Mr. Hamilton.” his face was cold as stone a he addressed him, “You're home early.” 

lightning flashed. 

“Thomas,” Alex screwed up his lips and inhaled through his nose, taking a step up onto the porch, “I don't know why the fuck you're on my doorstep but this is gonna be the last time I ask you to fuck off.”

There was a pause.

Thomas clucked his tongue at Alex. “So quick to anger.” he bore into him with his steely gaze, shaking his head. 

“Don't patronize me you spoiled little prat. You're on MY prop-”

“Secretary Hamilton. My dear sir, you may have heard about me from my wife, Mrs. Maria Reynolds.” 

Alex's heart stopped as he heard the words. The all too familiar words. Alex tried to speak but a sound wouldn't come out. It felt like someone had punched him in the gut. He gasped for air. 

“W-Where did you get that?”

“I am James Reynolds,” he continued calmly, “I hope this letter finds you in good health-”

Thomas's southern drawl was cut off as Alexander tried to push by him through the door. Briefly surprised by the small man's strength, Thomas was moved to the side as Alexander barged through the door and into the dark house. 

Thomas blinked and got ahold of himself as he dashed inside, slamming the door behind him going after the small man who had unexpectedly made a run for it. Having a much larger stride, Thomas only had to go three steps before gabbing Alexander's ponytail and yanking him back towards him. A steel grip on his collar, he turned him around to face him, rage no longer hidden under his calm facade. 

“Look, 'Mr. Secretary' I don't know why the hell you're sprinting around like a pathetic child runs from his mother but you have some fucking explaining to do. What the hell is this letter? Who is Maria Reynolds.”

“Now hold on one fucking minute, your highness, you can't question me in my own house after you- wait a second, did you sneak in my office to get that?”

Thomas rolled his eyes impatiently and tightened his grip on Hamilton's collar.  
“You left your key in the lock, you dumb fuck. Are you actually slow as shit?” 

“You broke into my office?! What the- I can't fucking believe this. Who the hell do you think you are?! I don't even know you!” he jerked his arms into Thomas's chest, trying to shove him away, face red with dumbfounded rage. 

The taller quickly turned on him and slammed his head into the nearest wall, knocking a vase off a table and hearing it shatter to the ground. One hand threaded in the immigrant's hair, Thomas expertly held his wrists behind his back with the other and pressed Alex's front against the wall with his towering body. 

“Who the hell do you think YOU are, how dare you speak like that to me!” Thomas growled in his ear, “I asked a question and I want answers. Talk you disgusting animal.” 

“Oh, I'm sorry,” Alex whined sarcastically, “I didn't realize Thomas Jefferson was a psycho freak with a thing for breaking and entering,” he tried to kick at Thomas's shins, “This is your second time today, isn't it?”

As soon as the words had left his mouth he was whirled around and siezed by the throat, the dangerous hand leaving no room for extra words out of him. In a brisk movement Alex felt a white hot pain across his cheek. His eyes watered. He'd slapped him again. The fucker had SLAPPED him again.  
Thomas's face was very close to his, Alex could feel his hot breath as he panted furiously. “Last warning, Hamilton. Do as you're told and answer the question you insufferable little fucker. I'm warning you...”

Alexander just stared at him, panting for breath. Several long seconds passed, a standoff between the two.  
Then all at once Alex stopped, screwed up his face, and spat right onto Thomas Jefferson's. 

Thomas let Hamilton go and stepped back, dumbstruck. Blinking, he whiped the spit off his cheek with the back of his hand. He stood for a few seconds in shock, comprehending how he had been disrespected. Alex watched, realizing what he had done.  
Thomas slowly raised his darkened eyes to Alex, the hatred of hellfire blazing in them. 

“Go to your room now, Hamilton.” He whispered dangerously quiet. 

“What? You even THINK you can tell me what to-”

“GO to your room, NOW!” Thomas commanded, shouting so loud his words echoed in the house. 

They both stood deathly still.

There was a moment of hesitation before Alexander decided to do as he was told, he was in too deep now. He knew what he wanted, he knew what Thomas wanted. They were both one and the same, but it was going to be rough, even more so if he didn't follow direct orders from the taller man. And a part of him he had never known before was... curious.

Keeping his head high, his eyes still blazing, Alex turned and grumpily stormed towards the staircase. The Virginian followed a few feet behind him, scolding him loudly the whole way. “I asked you several times, Alexander. SEVERAL times to tell me about the Reynold's girl. You're pathetic. Now I have no other choice but to make you tell me. Who's fault is that, Alexander?” Thomas shamed him as they turned the corner towards Alex's bedroom. 

“Not mine, bastard.” Alexander said quietly, gritting his teeth. Something about this whole shaming thing... It was really getting him off. And quickly. He bit his lip needily. 

“Excuse me? That is not how you address me. It's either daddy or sir, first and last warning.”  
They made it to the bedroom and walked inside. 

“Fuck you.” Alexander spun around to face him, fuming, as soon as they had entered the room. Thomas seethed at him. 

“That's it.” he hissed between clenched teeth. It was the last straw for Thomas as he threw the small man down on the bed. 

“You have 30 seconds to get yourself ready. Take it or leave it.”  
Alex looked back at him, outraged, hatred evident in his glare.

“You asshole,” he spat in shock, “I fucking can't even believe you. motherfucking cock-sucking-huge bag of shit--”  
Thomas dished him a crisp slap across the mouth, leaving a red mark, shutting him up. He grabbed him by the front of his hair and stared right into his eyes, outraged.  
“Who the fuck do you think you are, talking to me like that. You'd better show some manners to your superiors or I- you know what- you just got down to 15 seconds you little whore. Fuck you. Starting now.” 

He paced to the other side of the room and sat down in an armchair. He gracefully removed his pants and folded them as Alex huffed, struggling to undress and loosen himself up with two fingers, trying to figure out if he was even doing this right.  
Thomas smiled to himself at the sight and slowly, menacingly, stroked his cock. 

The two were staring each other in the eyes across the room, Alex over his shoulder in a glare, and Thomas lightly and amused. Time ticked by and Alex got hornier and hornier seeing Thomas play with himself, watching him. The eye contact never broke as Thomas stood and drawled “Time's up.” 

he moved to the bed and siezed Alex by the arms, flipping him onto his back and holding his hands over his head as he straddled him, holding him down with his thighs as he squirmed and kicked. “Get off me, you filthy Virginian fuck.”  
“I hate you!” he growled as Thomas pulled out his handkerchief and crudely gagged Alex's mouth. 

One hand holding his wrists and the other on tightly on his throat, Thomas dangerously whispered, “Listen to me, little bitch. One, we're doing a color system, understand.”

when there was no response but a glare and a growl, Thomas smacked his mouth, hard. “Understand?!” He tightened his grip on his windpipe. Alex curtly nodded, angry tears in his eyes from the shock. Despite his lusty rage, he could see the approval in Alex's eyes telling him that the color system would be fine with him. 

“Good. Two, you will do exactly as I say and obey my words, if not I will punish you. And I will punish you hard. Do not test me.” He added, darkly. Alex nodded.  
Thomas bent down close to Alex and bit his throat, leaving a mark. Alex gasped and moved his hips up to grind on Thomas' hard cock. The Virginian sucked harshly under his jaw then glided his tongue across his jawline.

“Three, you don't get to cum until I do. You will use your manners. If you cum before I do, there will be privileges taken, understand?” Alex nodded desperately, craving the end of Thomas's rules so he could have him inside him. He was starving for his searing heat and his cock was so torturously hard and in desperate need of friction. He messily grinded into Thomas. 

Thomas, who was sucking at Alex's collarbone, stopped and looked up.  
“Being impatient, are we?” 

Alex whimpered in high pitch need, begging with his eyes for Thomas to give it to him.  
Thomas looked back at Alex's desperation coldly.

“You will learn to wait. Am I clear.” he stated more than asked.  
Alex dropped his head back in submission, wanting it to go quicker.  
“That's a good boy.” The Virginian drawled.

Thomas dragged his tongue along Alex's belly, so... so slowly. The heat of his tongue was like fire on Alex's skin. So good...  
When he reached his helplessly hard cock, he swirled his tongue around the base. Alex's legs started to shake with the sensation. Thomas sucked no more than a half inch of the tip into his mouth and held it there. 

Not moving, not sucking, nothing. 

The leg shaking got harder as Alex tried to restrain himself. It was so hard, Thomas was teasing him on purpose, torturing him so that he had no choice but to be bad and get punished. It became too much. 

Alex made a squeal on the side of a sob as he grinded up into Thomas's mouth.  
This was his mistake. 

Thomas raised his hand high into the air and brought his palm down on Alex's inner thigh, rewarded with a loud whack. Alex sqealed in pain. 

“You wanted to play nice?” Thomas moved up and grabbed Alex's hair violently.

“I play nice with you when you show me you deserve it.” Alex panted. 

“All you're showing me is that you deserve discipline.” Thomas twisted the hair in his hands, making Alex see sparks of pain. 

“And oh, will I show you discipline. Filthy slut...”  
he continued as he positioned himself, tip touching Alex's entrance. He glared right into Alex's wide eyes as he slowly pushed in. inch by torturous inch. Alex threw his head back, snarling, gritting his teeth over the gag. It didn't hurt so much as it overwhelmed him with pleasure he had never felt before. It felt like eternity as Jefferson pushed in all of his many inches. 

He forced himself not to rock his hips into thomas's cock, he would surely be punished for that and he wanted to be good for him. He was trying so hard. Thomas noticied.  
“Good boy.” he remarked as he dug his fingers into Alex's hips. 

“Learning some manners now, are we?” he growled as he pulled almost completely out, and then slammed back in with a harshness Alex had never felt. His head banged the headboard. “Ohh... f-f-fuck.” he stuttered. 

Thomas sneered at his reaction and began to drive in and out of the small man. He moved with short and fast thrusts, getting faster and faster by the second, but not deep. “Please daddy, deeper, daddy please, I-I” Thomas ignored his pathetic begging, unconvinced that he wanted it enough. If he really wanted it he would be screaming.  
He went faster in this fashion for a minute more and then all at once slowed down to a torturous crawl, deeply pushing against Alex's prostate at an outrageously slow pace.

Alex all but screamed and then went quieter, “No no no no-oo-o....” 

Thomas leaned close to his ear and gave it a bite, “Careful what you wish for.”  
Alex heaved a desperate sob. 

Laughing evilly, Thomas reached in front of him and grabbed Alex's cock. Admiring it, he began thoroughly stroking it's length. “Filthy bitch.” he murmered as he briefly took pity on the man and violently started pounding him deep and hard, just how he had asked earlier. 

“Good boy.” he said patronizingly as he watched Alex begin to melt under the pleasure. It was too much for Alexander, Thomas watched his open-mouthed face as he gasped for enough air and fluttered his eyelids. It was incredibly hot to watch.  
It didn't take many more thrusts until, “Oh no... oh...daddy, I'm going to cum!” he screamed.  
“I'm going to cum!” he repeated, moaning obscenely loudly. 

The Virginian knew what he was going to do to him next. He had made rules he expected to be followed and Alex needed to be punished... he needed to be punished for being so disrespectful. 

Thomas thrusted twice, deep and hard, then rammed in, as far as he coud possibly go, hammering against Alex's prostate... and... he held it there.

Alex screamed at the deep, unmoving, dick inside him against his sensitive area. He panted and whimpered at the same time, short bursts of air sqealing out of him.  
“I-I-I... daddy please!” he choked and begged, practically sobbing, toes curling.

Five more seconds of unmoving torture. Alex's legs trembled violently.

At this irrisistable sight, Thomas finally released the pressure and felt himself reach a point of ecstasy. With two thrusts, he came inside of Alex and heard him moan at the feeling.  
“Fuck...” Thomas hissed between his teeth. He began harshly hammering the immigrant again and moving his hand up and down Alex's throbbing shaft. 

Again, the pleasure bubbled over in Alex “Please!” he begged and screamed. “Let me cum, please let me cum I need to cum...”  
Thomas took a moment of consideration. 

“Fine.” Thomas sneered with a harsh smack to his thigh for good measure. “You can cum all over yourself like the whore you are. Disgusting little bitch.”  
At this, Alex screamed with all his being and arched his back, cumming all over his own stomach and chest. 

Thomas pulled out of Alex, making a mess, but kept stroking. Alex whimpered and shivered with every extra little squirt of cum that spurted out until he was completely finished. 

“All done?” Thomas asked, suspiciously kindly.  
“Yes, daddy.” Alex nodded breathlessly, eyes struggling to focus on just about anything. 

Thomas stroked Alex's cheek with one finger, looking him deep in the eyes.  
“Well,” Thomas held Alex's chin in his hand, “I'm not.” 

Alex's overly sensitive cock still in hand, he kept stroking. Smirking evilly as his eyes never left Alex's.  
The immigrant realized what Thomas was going to do to him.

“N-No d-daddy please.” he pleaded, eyes widening.  
Thomas completely ignored his begging for whole minute. He continued to ruthlessly overstimulate Alex until he was in tears. He looked like a mess, cum all over his chest, shaking and shivering. Soon he was sobbing with every stroke, toes tightly curled, jaw clenched. 

With one last torturous stroke, Thomas let go. 

Alex whimpered and gasped, collapsing backwards into the pillows. Thomas quickly crawled up next to him, cupping his wet face in his hands.  
“Oh.” he pouted as Alex muttered and sputtered incoherently, eyes closed. “Did daddy teach you a lesson?”

Alex nodded gently into Thomas's hand. “And when are you going to see the Reynolds girl again?” “Never. Never I swear... I...” Alex trailed off, floating from ecstasy and exhaustion.  
Satisfied, Thomas gently lifted Alex into his arms, cradling him as he carried him to the bathroom where there was a tub already prepared, slightly lukewarm from the day it had been sitting. 

The next thing Alex knew, he was clean and in bed, enveloped warmly in Thomas Jefferson's arms silent and still. He couldn't help questioning if this had really happened. Had this really happened? What was this? It seemed completely unreal completely unexpected, like someone had looked at the timeline of his life and scattered it with one brush of their hand, like dust off the tabletop. 

For now it was hard to think of much of anything but the gentle breathing of Thomas Jefferson, his enemy, lying next to him in bed. Alexander matched his breathing with the Virginian's. 

It was only moments before he drifted off to sleep... and Thomas stirred, checking his face for sleep.

As soon as he noted Alexander, he quietly pulled the sheets away from himself and dressed, leaving him there. What the fuck had he done. What the fuck had he done...?


	7. Cabinet Heat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alexander wakes up to kind gestures from Jefferson, but during the Cabinet meeting, Thomas is ruthless to him. Alexander (forcefully) pulls Thomas aside afterwards for a little chat...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment if you like! Thank you all for being so supportive and amazing! <3 Next chapter in progress! :)

Consciousness crept back to young Alexander Hamilton and reverberated through his body, followed shortly by waves of realization of what had happened the night before. A deep hapiness washed over him as he remembered.  
Eyes still closed, he reached his arm across the bed in search of Thomas Jefferson's warmth, but grappled at nothing but cold sheets. 

Puzzled, he blinked his eyes open to the bright room, it must be at least 10:00 judging by the sun and the rain had stopped during the night because birds were twittering as a cool breeze drifted through a cracked window, slightly swaying the cloth of the canopy bed. 

Sitting up and cracking his neck, Alexander breathed deeply. With a new day and a clear head he started to fully comprehend what the hell had just happened last night between him and the Secretary of State. The SECRETARY OF STATE. Thomas Jefferson. Alexander shook his head in astonishment. He almost couldn't beieve it. Almost...

Except it had felt so right the entire time. The anger, he roughness, the dominant Jefferson. It had felt so right, leaving him wondering how couldn't this have happened before now?  
But his soaring heart began to come down as he remembered why any of this had happened in the first place. “The Reynolds Letter...” Alex thought to himself. “He found the Reynolds letter... what the fuck am I going to do?” The letter proving his affair was in the hands of his most ruthless enemy. The question was: what was JEFFERSON going to do?

Getting out of bed, sighing, Alexander's eye was caught by an out of place piece of parchment on his bedside table. Stepping towards it, he was puzzled by two other odd items: some neatly folded money and on top of that, the heavy metal key to his Treasury office. He pushed aside the other two object and picked up the parchment, squinting without his glasses to aid him.  
The handwriting was impossibly neat, the letters delicately curved, giving the impression of patience, precision, and high class wealth. Alexander snorted, rolling his eyes, and began to read the note. 

“Mr. Hamilton,

I took the liberty of dressing you in your nightclothes and sending your dayclothes to the washroom. I also have cleaned up the vase that was broken last night and have left payment for a new one next to the key to your office. I hope you don't mind that I made myself some breakfast in your kitchens, and in return I have made some for you. 

Thank you,  
Secretary Jefferson”

Alexander set the note back down quietly, processing.  
It was so... professional and stiff, no hint of passion in it whatsoever. It was just how Alexander had seen Thomas before this whole week had happened, elitist, cold, formatted. He had called him “Mr. Hamilton”. What the hell?   
Between the lines there was undoubtedly some passion at the bare minimum. Alexander shrugged, and thought, “At least he made me food.”, trying to ignore all the other nagging thoughts he wanted to contemplate. 

Bare feet padding on the carpet, Alexander thudded down the stairs, swinging around the corner with one hand on the banister like a child, and entered the dining room where he would usually eat breakfast with Eliza. The deep green drapes of the room were pulled open, flooding the room in morning sunlight that poured across the redwood table and carved chairs extravagantly. Alex's eyes landed on the table with awe. 

At the head of the table there wasn't just breakfast, but rather an entire place setting, prepared formally with the fine glassware the Hamilton's kept locked in a china cabinet in the dining room.   
The crystal glasses, silver cutlery and porcelain plates glittered under the incoming sunlight. 

“Holy shit...” Alex breathed. This was definitely not what he was expecting from someone like Thomas, someone who never had to make their own food.   
He slowly skirted the edge of the table and sat down at the head, still awestruck by this display as he stared. 

The food on it didn't seem to be rotten or revolting at all. On one plate there was a spinach and herb omelette accompanied by warm slices of bacon and buttered toast. On another plate there was washed and cut fruit of all sorts. The three glasses held different beverages, orange juice, water, and tea, a selection he rarely had as he usually rushed out the door on his way to work. 

Still slightly suspicious of poison, he gingerly took a bite. Alex quickly forgot his concerns as the flavor flooded his mouth; it was delicious. He scarfed down every last scrap until the plates were completely clean.   
“I could get used to that.” he nodded in self satisfaction as he collected the dishes haphazardly in his arms and carted them to the kitchen sink, dumping them there. Washing the dishes was a chore he despised and he wasn't about to start now. 

Instead he climbed back up the stairs and selected his outfit for the day, forcing himself to wear his formal clothing for the Cabinet meeting at three-o-clock that afternoon. He chose a beige waistcoat and breeches with a silk green coat and a white cravat.  
“This'll do.” He shifted uncomfortably in front of the wardrobe mirror, the stiff fabric unpleasant on his skin . 

He stopped moving when he noticed a discoloration on his throat. Furrowing his brow and stepping closer, he exposed his neck, examining two dark hickeys on the side of his neck and one bite mark right on his throat.   
“Shit...” Alex groaned, pulling his collar higher up to conceal the marks, but it almost immediately slipped back down. He ran his fingers through his hair angrily. 

“Fucking asshole.” Alexander slammed the wardrobe door shut and disgruntledly travelled downstairs to work in his office. This day just got a whole lot harder. And it was all thanks to that damned Thomas Jefferson. 

*** 

Three hours of writing and Alexander had scrapped together a generally suitable argument for today's topic of discussion, the location of the nation's capital. The debates in the Cabinet had gone back and forth between his plan of state debt assumption and the whereabouts of the capital, it always came back around to those two important inssues.

The problem of solving them was with the rift of opinions of the two most important voices in the Cabinet, the rivals, the advocates of the North and the South, Alexander Hamiltong and Thomas Jefferson. Alex wanted the capital in Philadelphia or New York, Thomas wanted it in Virginia, and Washington was listening very carefully to their reasoning.

Which was not going to work well for Alexander today. He was supposed to have all night to construct his argument but he was... in other ways occupied. Now all he had were a few scraps of parchment and a fuckton of mixed emotions about the Secretary of State. This was going to be quite the meeting...

*** 

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck-”

Alexander stumbled down the step of his carriage onto the gravel in front of the assembly buildind, fumbing for his pocket watch once again to be reminded of his lateness. It was three-o-clock and they had already started the meeting.  
Alexander, still out front, was flustered from chasing a carriage and disheveled from the knowledge that minutes were slipping away where Jefferson had the whole Cabinet floor to himself. Panicking and rudely paying the driver, he dashed off to the stairs of the building and entered the quiet lobby in a flurry.

Tripping over a stray ottoman, he cursed and rounded the corner to the hallway, at the end of which were the double doors that led to the Cabinet room. 

“I have a meeting in here, gentlemen.” Alex panted to to the two guards standing outside the door. They looked at each other. 

“We're going to need identification, son. The meeting started five minutes ago.” The taller one monotoned. 

Alexander rolled his head back, “You've gotta be kidding me.” He scoffed and blinked. “Alexander Hamilton. Secretary Treasury. Any of this ringing a bell?” 

“Son, we-” 

At his exact moment the double doors creaked inwards, a rush of air ruffling the hair of the man that had opened them. President George Washington stood resolutely and firm in the doorway, hands on the ornate brass knobs he had turned.   
He nodded to Alex, “Secretary Hamilton, come in.” 

The guards looked at each other, mortified, and split a path for Alexander, who glared at each of them and loftily strolled through the doorway, following the blue coattails of the President into the room. 

The cabinet room was simple yet beautiful. Rows of walnut desks that each seated two curved in an orchestra-style form around the raised part of the room where the main desk was placed. It had was adorned green velved covering, and behind it hung an American flag visible to all. Large windows lined the rectangular room, looking out on the building's garden, but the crimson curtains were usually pulled closed for privacy during these meetings. 

Heads turned as Alexander walked in late. Clearly the doors were not very soundproof and the exchange outside the room was less-than-secret. Some were holding back laughs. 

Alexander made a point to not make eye contact with any of them as he sat down at the only empty seat, to the right of Aaron Burr. Alexander looked at him inquisitevely and Burr smiled back. Alex waited for the President to begin calling the meeting to order again to speak. 

“Burr, what are you doing here?” 

Burr whispered, not turning to him, “Well you were so late they thought you had died in a terrible accident so they called me in to replace you.”   
Alexander scoffed, rolling his eyes. 

“Hilarious. But really, Burr, what are you doing at a Cabinet meeting?” Alex began to set his papers out on the desk, “Isn't debating...how should I put this: not your forte?”

Burr leaned back in his chair, still looking up at Washington, “Mr. President specially asked for me to attend as a passive voice of the people. Now if you haven't realized, the meeting is starting no thanks to you.” 

Alexander forced a sarcastic smile and turned his attention to the President. 

“... and to begin today's meeting we'll hear Secretary Hamilton's statement followed by Secretary Jefferson's counter-argument. Remember the conclusion to this issue is pressing so we want to have a verdict by the end of this month. Secretary Hamilton, you have the floor sir.” 

Alexander took a shaky breath and stood, looking down at his insufficient notes. They look sloppy and disorganized now that he was standing in front of the Cabinet. God, why hadn't he put together something more fitting? 

But now there was no time to kick himself as he began. 

“Mr. President,” he addressed Washington, “we've spent a month discussion the technicalities and scrutinizing the tedious details regarding this location, but we must remember that those details are irrelivant compared to what a nation's capital is supposed to mean in the first place. It has meaning beyond financials, it is where the very soul of this country was birthed.” 

Alexander glanced around the room, looking in each individual's eyes.

“Philadelphia. The signing of the Declaration itself that Secretary Jefferson holds so dearly, the place where we wrote our Constitutional systems into existence. The people already know that this is the heart of our country, why uproot this accumulation of history and assembly and replant it in the South, a move only desired by those who don't want to lose their precious slave labor? Our capital needs to mean more than a bargain between slave owners and northerners, don't you agree, Mr. President?” 

Alexander sat back down, satisfied with what he had put together based on his seriously lacking notes. Washington dipped his head at Alex, “Thank you, Secretary Hamilton. Secretary Jefferson, your response?” 

Thomas Jefferson, stood up on the other side of the room and straightened his sleeves. He was dressed in a very expensive scarlet coat and his hair was neatly in place, unlike Alex's.  
The Virginian looked put together, organized, cool headed and in control. He threw a steely gaze over to Alexander and held back a small laugh. His eyes darted from Alex's face to his neck and back almost unnoticeably. Alexander glowered and pulled his collar up once more. 

“Mr. President, I think all of us in this room know what Alexander is trying to do with that pitiful statement of false national pride.” Thomas smirked lightly as he spoke.

“He's trying to use our patriotism against us and we are all smarter than that.   
If his argument is that there is no national history in Virginia, well, I will not insult all of your knowledge on basic history by explainng how untrue that is. In addition, ignoring the financial details is going to make this decision even more difficult than Hamilton is already making it. The real-estate for the capital would be a fortune in New York and does congress have enough money to spare all for some falsesly placed patriotism? No.   
And Secretary Hamilton would have us believe that the southerners want the capital in the South in order to protect slavery, but may I point out to anyone that is visually capable that Virginia is in the middle of these states and therefore has a perfect balance of North and South representation within its borders.” 

He looked emotionlessly at Alexander, who was growing red from frustration.

“If a capital represents the people, as you have said, Mr. Hamilton, then why should it be hidden up in some far-off, frozen wasteland corner of our country?” 

Thomas finished his statement in silence, smiling calmly as George Washington took notes for several long seconds, quill scratching. The rest of the cabinet were all nodding in agreement.   
Alexander knew that his statement had been beaten. He knew it, Burr knew it, the whole Cabinet knew it. And it felt mortifying, agonizing to a point where he wanted to walk casually across the room and punch Thomas Jefferson right in the mouth. Alexander looked furiously down at his shoes. “Filthy slave-beating bastard.” he whispered.

“Thank you for that statement, Secretary Jefferson. Now if we could welcome Aaron Burr to the floor-”

“Apologies for my interruption, Mr. President, but I believe Secretary Hamilton has something to say.” 

he looked sideways at the broiling Treasurer, “unless we've abolished the Cabinet rule of not speaking when another member is?” 

There was a moment of silence, then George Washington sighed and turned his attention to Alexander.   
“Mr. Hamilton, what did you need to say?”

Alexander, red-faced, livid, bore his blazing eyes into Thomas Jefferson's across the room. Thomas stared right back, smirking.   
He raised one dark eyebrow provocatively. Clenching his fist, Alexander had had enough. Still looking at Thomas, he straightened himself up and said very properly and eloquently,  
“I needed to say that Thomas Jefferson is a filthy slave-beating bastard.” 

At once the Cabinet room erupted with shouts of protest. Jefferson had stood right up, chair screetching back and made a move for Hamilton's direction when his deskmate took him firmly by the shoulders and sat him back down. Through the uproar outraged voices addressed the president and each other. The chaos continued for several more seconds. 

“SILENCE.” everyone fell immediately hushed and looked up at the President who had bellowed for their muteness. George Washington towered over them, disgusted by their behavior and composed beyond anyone else in the room. He looked around at the Cabinet.

“Gentlemen, I am appalled at this childlike behavior.” He pursed his lips, bearing down on them like a scolding mother. The Cabinet members all slowly took their seats quietly.  
“Take a walk, all of you. We will reconvene after an hour of recess.” 

He glowered at Alexander Hamilton first and then Thomas. “Secretary Hamilton, Secretary Jefferson, leave the rest of today's meeting to us. You have said quite enough for today, thank you for your time, gentlemen.”   
Burr smirked at Alex, mocking him.   
Washington addressed the rest of the group before either man had time to protest, “Meeting dismissed.” 

Alexander, at a loss of words, fought against the current of men flowing to the door and towards Washington, who had just stepped down from raised part of the room.   
“Mr. President,” he breathed, flustered, “I'm sorry, just let me stay-”

“No, Alex, you've stayed quite long enough at today's meeting.” Washington glided right past him.

“But, sir.” Alex's short legs struggled to keep up with Washington's tall strides as they moved towards the door.

“Alexander, I don't know why you and Jefferson have been going at it like cats and dogs today, but its more than usual, plus you showed up late, plus the essay I asked you to prepare was nothing more than scribbled notes.” 

“Sir, I-”

“Don't think I don't notice these things, Alexander.” 

They paused in the door frame and Washington faced him. Alex looked down at his shoes. 

“Pull yourself together and be ready for our next assembly, that's what I'm asking of you now. And go home and get your head on straight. That's an order from your commander, am I perfectly clear?” 

Alex clenched his jaw and held his tongue. “Yes sir.” he forced out. 

“Good.” and Washington was gone. 

*** 

Thomas Jefferson was leaving the assembly building in a flurry of annoyance. Annoyance at Washington, annoyance at the Cabinet, annoyance at Hamilton. Fucking Alexander Hamilton.   
He shook his head frustratedly and pulled out his pocketwatch to check the hour 3:40. Great. He'd been kicked out not even an hour into the meeting. Thanks to that brat.

Not two seconds into having his head down he was pulled strongly by his belt to the side.

“What the-” he yelped in surprise and stumbled one foot over the other into an open door. Looking around, he noticed he was in an empty meeting-room and standing impossibly close to Alexander Hamilton, who still had his belt in his hand. Their eyes locked in a fiery standoff. 

“Mr. Jefferson, please come in.”   
Alexander smiled sickeningly sweetly, and harshly let go of his belt, reaching around behind Thomas to close the door. 

“We have some talking to do.”


	8. Opinionated, Are We?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alexander and Thomas have an argument after the Cabinet meeting that QUICKLY turns to something more intimate...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> S M U T! Comment if you enjoy, thank you so much for reading and your support! :) Next chapter, coming right up!

“Secretary Hamilton, what is this?” Thomas sighed exasperatedly. Alexander took a step back into the room.

“Oh no. oh no no don't pull that oblivious bullshit with me.” Alexander laughed sarcastically, “Don't pretend like I'm the crazy one pulling you in here, you're the one going off on my ass since the second we started today. I want an explanation.” 

“Mr. Hamilton I haven't the slightest idea what you're going on about.”

Alexander looked up at the tall man's face, his dark eyes and neatly combed hair. Alex could tell he knew, he was mocking him with this false formality. Thomas' emotionless facade angered the immigant even more. Why couldn't he just show some passion, get mad at him. He'd rather them fight and yell than have Thomas act like Alex was an irrational little boy. 

“You got me kicked out of the fucking meeting two seconds in thanks to your insufferable pettiness and ridiculous ass-kissing on Washington.” 

“No, Mr. Hamilton, you got youself kicked out with that little quip of yours that you felt so passionately about.” He moved towards the door, “You did that without my help. And if anyone's kissing Washington's ass it's you with that patriotic bullshit you tried to pull.”

He put his hand on the knob and looked over his shoulder at Alex like he was a whining child, “Now if you'll excuse me I'm late to go- what did you say?- beat my slaves.” 

“We're not finished yet.” Alexander stepped towards him and pushed the door shut, reaching around him. The two enemies were mere centimeters apart, Hamilton's hand on the door, trapping Thomas in his place. 

He rolled his eyes,  
“Mr. Hamilton your ridiculous fits of passion are highly inappropriate.” 

Alex turned his face up to glare at the Virginian's, and breathed, “You know what else was inappropriate? Last night.” 

Alexander could see that he had made his guard waver. There was a flicker of anger and surprise in his eyes before he quickly extinguished it again cooly. 

“Last night?” He drawled boredly, as if he needed a reminder of what happened; it was too insignificant for his grandiloquent mind to remember. 

Alexander scoffed and drew closer, cocking his head in mock contemplation.   
“Yeah, last night. What happened last night, gee I dunno, something about you cumming in my ass rings a bell.” 

Thomas loftily sneered and turned back towards the door, trying to make another exit but was stopped by Hamilton's strong grip on his belt once again. 

“Where do you think you're going?” Alex yanked the Secretary of State to face him. Thomas shoved him in a quick jerking motion, disgust in his outraged eyes as if Alex's poorness would rub off on him.

“Don't touch me.” 

“You can't ignore it forever, Mr. Jefferson.” Alex dismissed Thomas's clear warning and shifted closer to the tall Virginian, gently pressing him against the closed door with his front. He placed his hands on either side on Thomas. 

Thomas's lips parted as if to speak but no words came out, they moved aimlessly. Alex was breaking down his wall bit by bit and Thomas knew it.   
He could feel himself beginning to fall under his teasing touch, his body growing hot against Alexander's, but Thomas was more composed than Alex ever was. He wasn't going to let the immigrant have what he wanted. 

“You were being a reticent little bitch , as per usual. I punished you. So your point is?”

“That's not a very casual way to punish someone, now is it?” Alexander smirked up, closing in on Thomas with his body and relentless arrogance, “I don't recall Washington ramming it in my ass when I was misbehaving.” 

“Watch your tone with me.” Thomas threatened darkly. 

“I'll use whatever the fuck tone I want.” Alex spat, trying to make himself look taller, eyes blazing into Thomas's.

“Alexander...” The Virginian warned dangerously, breathing wrathful breaths through his nose. It was evident that this would be his last warning. 

There was an electric heat between them as several prolonged seconds dragged out, the two aggressors standing each other off. The only sound was Jefferson's breathing as they looked each other up and down, sizing one another up. 

Thomas gulped as he felt a small pool of heat curl in the bottom of his belly. Fuck. He really couldn't avoid this, could he? He'd wanted to, he'd wanted to so bad... but his composure was forgotten as the desire crashed into him in a violent wave of hunger for the young immigrant.

He wanted to hear him whimper and beg, wanted to watch his helpless, gasping face as he punished him mercilessly, hear him completely unable to hold back his little sqeals of pain and pleasure. Thomas thought about how his legs had quivered... how he had cummed all over his own belly... 

Alex could see Thomas thinking filthy thoughts just by looking at him, how his breath sped up and became ragged. Alex could feel it too. He was so close to the taller man that he could sense his heart thudding faster through his waistcoat, feel the warm rush of hardness to the man's cock which was pressing on his own lower belly. 

Alex savored the feeling, relishing in that he was the one torturing Jefferson this time. He snickered up at him, smirking at the priceless sight.   
Then, gritting his teeth. “God, you make me mad.” he hissed through them. 

It was the last straw for Thomas; he let out a strangled growl and abruptly siezed Alex by the hips, his fingertips gouging into his delicate skin and bruising it immediately. He roughly pulled the smaller man's abdomen onto his, grinding their swelling bulges together. 

Alex wimpered at the pain and friction, adrenaline bursting through his veins as the exitement exploded in him. This is exactly what he was aiming to do. 

He reached down his right hand to paw at Jefferson's clothed cock through his pants. Thomas responded to the sensation by surging forward and taking Alex's throat in his teeth, sucking and nipping at the already-sensitive area from last night. 

“You want it?” Thomas drawled into his ear, biting his throat deeply again. Alex whimpered. 

“Is that a yes?” He growled again, growing impatient with the smaller man.   
“Yes, give it to me soon or I'll fucking make you.” 

In a split second Alexander was siezed by the collar and flung to the floor, he landed heavily on his back, choking out a furious snarl. As soon as he tried to sit up he was smashed back down by a heavy weight on his ribcage. 

Squirming and cursing, he glowered up to see the livid Thomas Jefferson pinning him down with one expensive leather shoe. He was crushing him leisurely like he was a worthless little annoyance underfoot. 

“How dare you speak to me like that?” Thomas spat at Alex, “Try my patience one more time, slut, and I'll show you punishment.”   
“Fuck you!” The man underfoot seethed, panting. 

Thomas bent over and slapped the immigrants cheek, the red mark of four fingers slowly coming into appearance; he stood back up and brushed off his hands disgustedly. 

His glare bore down on Alex like flames as he took a moment of consideration, deciding what he had in store for Alexander. That motherfucker had it coming for him; he was asking for it. He was on Thomas's last nerve and he was asking for it.

“Get up.” Thomas commanded as he reached down and grabbed the scruff of Alex's neck like a dog, dragging him roughly to his knees then discarding him.

Alexander huffed.   
“I'd have thought you'd learned your manners by now. Clearly you're just as fucking stupid as you are disobedient.”

Thomas, hands behind his back and head held sophisticatedly and noble in the air, paced in front of kneeling Alex as he continued his scolding. 

“I'm not impaired, Hamilton. I know there's something going on here.” He paced in the other direction, Alex's eyes trailing him the whole way, “But if I want your shit opinions, I'll ask.” he paced again and stopped, looking down at Alex condescendingly, “And did daddy ask for your opinion in front of the Cabinet?” 

“You asked me to repeat what I said.” Alex muttered heatedly, scowling down at the floor.   
Thomas snapped out a hand and grabbed Alex's chin roughly, forcing his eyes up to his.

“What did you say to me?” 

Alexander screwed up his prideful face and decided better than to show Thomas what he was really thinking. That he had ASKED Alex to say it aloud! He choked down his opinion for once and instead forced out a strained, “No daddy. You did not ask for my opinion.” 

“Good boy. Using your manners.” he smiled and roughly let go of Alexander who cracked his jaw back and forth, glaring at the floor again. 

“That big mouth of yours does a lof of fucking talking for such a little man. It's too big for your own good, Alex.” 

Alexander felt shivers down his spine at the sound of his name on Thomas's sexy southern tongue. The lazy drawl made it so perfect... he wanted to hear it again but didn't dare ask.

“Now it's time to put that filthy mouth of yours to use.” The Virginian sneered. 

Alex look up in anticipation. He all at once realized what Thomas meant when he noticed he was about eye level with the southerner's swollen bulge.  
Wow...   
He stared at it in enthusiastic interest then looked up at Thomas who was watching him eye his clothed cock. He raised a dark eyebrow at the knealing immigrant.   
“You want it, do you?” 

Alexander did. He wanted Thomas's cock so badly. He was excited and interested and he wanted to find the moment when Thomas would whimper and cum and be at HIS mercy. He wanted to look Thomas in the eyes the whole time...

“Yes, daddy. I want it.”   
Thomas sneered at his eagerness once again, “Then take it, you submissive little bitch. And be grateful I'm letting you.” 

Not wasting a single second for Thomas to change his mind, Alexander reached forward and fumbled frantically with the Virginian's belt, undoing it and slipping it out of the loops in messy clumsiness.   
Thomas watched him, smirking, the whole time, not bothering to offer the slightest bit of assistance. “Fucking asshole...” Alex thought.   
As soon as he had discarded the pesky belt on the floor with a bit of an aggressive motion, he sloppily worked down Thomas's pants, yanking them and struggling until his cock was out and in the open. 

It was just as it was last time, evenly shaped, the perfect length, throbbing and eager to find its home deep in Alexander. Alex shivered at the lovely sight of it, God he couldn't wait. Shifting his eyes up to gaze into Thomas's dark ones, he firmly grasped the base of his cock. 

Keeping eye contact, he sucked the head into his mouth, applying a tiny amount of suction. Thomas blinked down at him. Alexander swirled his tongue in slow circles around the head and began to apply more pressure and speed with his tongue as he started slowly stroking the base of Thomas's cock. 

“Fuck...” Thomas hissed. The sound of the dirty word out of the eloquent Virginian propelled Alex, encouraged him to go further. 

He pulled more of Thomas's length into his mouth, inch by inch, then pulled back up, then went further by another inch, then pulled back up. He continued this pattern until he was going as deep as he thought he could go, his mouth almost reaching where his hand was. 

He gazed up at Thomas as he continued to stroke faster and harder, coming down on his cock with his mouth as far as he could go.  
The wet sounds were loud in the empty room and were dirty and erotic. 

“Yes... oh God...” Thomas grumbled as Alex kept bobbing up his length, spit shining on his cock and a bit on Alex's chin. He reached with the other hand that wasn't stroking and palmed Thomas's balls. This rewarded him with a low moan from the Secretary of State. 

Alex could tell that Thomas was getting close, feel his legs laboring not to shake. He couldn't wait to see Thomas melt all over him, become the mess that Alex was the night before. But... the obnoxious, arrogant, prideful part of Alexander wanted Thomas to feel what he had felt, to get a taste of his own medicine.  
He remembered what Thomas had done to him, and he formulated his idea. 

Alex sucked harder, hollowing out his cheeks. He travelled up and down, faster and faster, stroking until he could feel Thomas almost ready to cum.

“Good boy... I'm so close...” 

That was his cue.   
He let go with his hand and deep-throated Thomas's cock all the way down to the base. Thomas was shocked with pleasure. 

“Oh God! Fuck!” he moaned. He was definitely going to cum.   
If Alex hadn't stopped moving altogether. 

Alex stood on his knees, the smooth cock deep in his mouth, and held it there. Unmoving.   
All the while making a point to glare right into Thomas's frenzied eyes, watching every single moment to perfectly see the orgasm slipping... slipping out of his reach.

He remained still. 

His legs shook. He panted. Thomas's orgasm slipped away, infuriatingly just out of his grasp.   
And, staring in his eyes, Alexander could see the lost ecstasy turning into lividness. 

Panting and heaving, Thomas screwed up his mouth and clutched Alex's hair, threading his fingers in and twisting. 

“How... DARE you!” Thomas raged. Alexander squealed at the pain on his scalp. 

“You good for nothing, naughty little fucker. I'll teach you a lesson, by God.” 

Pulling his hair and yanking him closer, Thomas thrusted his cock back into Alex's delicious, red, smirking lips. Alex smiled at the perfect roughness and coughed a little bit, gasping for air.  
With his free hand, Thomas clamped it over Alexander's throat, now holding the boy in two places on his head, the perfect leverage for the face-fucking he was about receive. 

“No more nice play...” Thomas snarled into Hamilton's eyes, relishing his orgasmic expression of helplessness and lust. God, he was perfect. 

Thomas thrusted in and out of Alexander's throat, feeling the boy occasinally cough and gasping for some air, moaning at the sight of him.   
His little mouth was so good... It was almost impossible. 

Thomas sped up deep and long until he knew he was about to cum again, it sure didn't take long. 

“Fuck!” 

With a final three thrusts, he cummed into Alexander's open mouth, the immigrant remaining wide open for any left over. 

Thomas stroked a couple times with his hand, releasing every last drop onto Alex's waiting tongue, completely and helplessly turned on by the sight of him. 

Knealing submissively on the floor, cum in his mouth, he was a sight to behold as he opened and closed his jaws, swallowing all of it until he was licking his lips, Thomas watching the entire show hungrily. 

“You are... fuck...”   
Thomas's speech fell out of his mouth clumsily. He was at a loss of words after.... this. 

“So you admit it.”, Alexander Hamilton smirked triumphantly, lips wet from spit and cum, “There is something here you can't ignore.” 

Thomas hastily pulled his pants back up and fumbled with the belt, regarding Alexander with his eyes. 

“My place. Tonight.” 

It was an order, not a question.


	9. Guidelines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 1 of 2, Alex comes home from his showdown with Jefferson after they got kicked out of the Cabinet meeting, and runs into his friends, Laurens, Hercules, and Lafayette. Laurens can tell that something is up with Alexander...

“Wait, like, forty seconds after I go out.” Alex said, peeking his head out the door of the random office and glanced around. People were milling in and exiting the lobby of the assembly building.

Thomas's low voice sounded close behind him.  
“You're ridiculous, you know.”

“No I'm not, there's an absurd amount of people out there. What day is it?”

“You're just noticing it more cause we're trying to get the fuck out. Move-”

He shoved the smaller, disadvantaged man with his shoulder, wedging in to look out the door, his line of vision easily clearing the top of Alex's head.

“Shit, that is a lot of people.”

Alex snorted.  
“Gee, it's almost like someone just said that.”

“Alex-”

“And cockbreath didn't listen.”

“Alexander, for God's sake quiet down, that group's getting closer, and- wait a minute what did you just call me?”

“Cockbreath.”

“You know, that's incredibly ironic of you,” Alex elbowed him, Thomas shifted around, craning for a better side view.

“Oh, go now you have a window.”

“What? I don't wanna go first-”  
“Go!” Thomas whisper shouted as he opened the door wide enough for the immigrant to pass through and herded him towards the hall.

“Hey! Ow, stop shoving-”

Thomas placed his foot on the small of Alex's back and propelled him out of the door, more lightly than rough, but Alex still stumbled and turned around.

“What the hell, man?” he hissed, “You're gonna get both of us caught.”

“YOU are if you keep talking, for Christ's sake GO.” Thomas urged him, annoyed, and caught the most genuine shock-faced scowl he had ever received from anyone before irritably closing the door.

As much as he was liking punishing Alex's arrogance during sex, the man's personality was fucking intolerable outside of it. How could anyone be so insufferable? At moments like these, during Cabinet meetings, anywhere around Madison, Alexander Hamilton and him rubbed each other the wrong way no matter what. It was infuriating, and Thomas hated it.

And now it was their second time using their obvious hate for something else. Thomas had no idea how either of them felt about this. They had wives. They were important men in high positions, they had friends that talked. But if there was anything Thomas was notorious for, it was for his collected control and analyzation.

He knew that Alex would rather get hit by a cab (multiple times) than talk this whole affair through, and that's precisely why Thomas didn't tell him that's what they would be doing. He knew Alex would whine and try to derail the conversation with sex but Thomas wouldn't let the prick stand a chance at that until he had gotten what he wanted.  
The obnoxious bellyaching wouldn't budge him, Alexander Hamilton was just going to have to wait for it.

***

Alexander savored the faint aftertaste of Thomas’s cum the whole ride home, basking in the fact that he had held Thomas, at least for a moment, completely under his control.  
He didn’t like being completely in control, per se; he lived more for the battle than the victory. He was glad that Thomas had been rough with him; for a moment after Alex had pulled his little orgasm-deprivation stunt, he thought that Thomas wouldn’t mercilessly face-fuck him. 

That was a once in a lifetime moment where he was wrong, Alex thought. 

Still chuckling to himself about the absurdity of it all, he hopped out of the carriage a little numb-legged from the ride and kneeling on the hardwood floor.  
Just as he turned to stroll to his house he collided face-to-face with a pedestrian walking by who was shielded by the carriage. 

“Real classy, whatch where the fuck you’re goi-”

“Alexander!” the man jeered at him playfully. Blinking Alex realized who he had encountered and laughed at himself.

“Laurens, I, uh, didn’t see you there.” 

“Damn right you didn’t. Almost smashed my face on your thick-head.”

“It’d be an improvement.” 

John snickered and waved to someone who was hidden from Alex’s vision as they strolled up to the little encounter. Lafayette and Hercules sauntered into view. 

“Monsieur Hamiltonnn!” Lafayette purred in his thick French accent, “Out of the Cabinet so early?” 

Alex openly displayed his annoyance to the group, “You’ll never believe this, I was kicked. Out.” he gestured each word with his hands, and dropped them to his side exasperatedly. 

Hercules looked at him, astonished as Laurens snorted to his left, “You? Kicked out? Yeah, I’ll never believe that.” 

“It’s not fucking funny,” Alex tried to make a point as Hercules wheezed and Lafayette tried to hold back and conceal a grin,  
“Thomas motherfucking Jefferson went off on my ass then proceeded to kiss Washington’s, and before anyone knew what the hell was going on Washington tossed the both of us out of the meeting!” 

“Back up, Washington tossed Jefferson out?” Laurens was perplexed.

“Hello, does nobody give a fuck that I got kicked out-”

“There’s no way Washington would boot Jefferson, why’d he do that, Ham?” Herc interrupted.

“Gee guys, really making a brother feel special today, huh?” 

“He probably wanted you two to walk out together and sort out your differences alone.”

Alexander scoffed at the thought of it, “We’re not toddlers anymore, Lafs.” 

“Right, toddlers are better at that.” 

“Bro why would you even insult toddlers by comparing them to Alex. Shit’s messed up.” 

“You know what? Done. Done with you jerk-offs. Go have fun at your…?” Alex approached his porch and turned around, trying to be as annoyed as possible with his snarky friends. 

“Protest. We told you last week but you had a Cabinet meeting today. At least you did.” Lafayette slapped Laurens on the back, sputtering.   
“Whatever. I’ll see you morons tomorrow.” 

“Right back at you, love.” Laurens cooed and went in for a hug Alex held his nose snootily in the air and refused to return the hug as his arms wrapped around him. 

Laurens recoiled sharply as soon as he had enveloped Alexander. John looked down at him bizarrely, his face concerned and inquisitive. 

Shit…

Alex realized what had jolted him so suddenly.   
Of course, only now did he realized he could smell it on himself, too.   
The faint smell of sweat and the distinct scent of cum mixed together with a perfume that wasn’t his seemed to have jump-started John into thought. 

Alex looked up at him, straining to masking his panic and guilt and was met by John’s calculative eyes, regarding the immigrant and narrowing knowingly. John’s wheels turned, Alex could see it. 

“Have a good night, Alexander.” Laurens smirked at him suspiciously. 

“You too.” Alex gulped.

*** 

The young treasurer spend the next four hours pacing around the house in boredom. His friends out in the city, his assignment for the next Cabinet meeting not given yet, this is a time where he would definitely settle down in his bed for a good, long jerk-session. 

With the upcoming evening he knew that was out of the question. It was the only thing keeping him sane as the hours dragged by like beaten horses pulling up a hill.

Lounging in the living room shirtless, he messily dug into what had to be his fifth roll in that hour. He was always hungry but gaining weight never seemed to occur to his metabolism.   
Alex sighed and dramatically flopped over the arm of the couch lazily. What was Thomas doing right now?

Alex paused and then physically snorted at the thought, the man was definitely sipping delicately out of a crystal glass. Maybe eating grapes one at a time with two fingers and being fanned by one of those little fat angels… what were they called? Chubbubs? No, cherubs. Definitely being fanned by cherubs. 

Alexander snickered at the ridiculous image playing in his head as he ripped into his role again. Rich Thomas Jefferson. He wondered what Thomas Jefferson’s house would look like.

Who would’ve thought a month ago that he’d be headed there tonight?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2 part chapter (was very long if I didn't split it). Comment if you like, PART 2 coming out TONIGHT! :)


	10. Guidelines Pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas makes a begrudging Alexander sit impatiently through the rules of their relationship before getting his reward (more of the reward in the next chapter *wink*). An ominous note is left about the intentions of the Reynolds Letter...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get ready for upcoming smut! Please comment if you like next chapter coming very soon, thank you all for reading! :)

Alexander rounded the corner of the street that Thomas lived on. He’d decided to walk as to not arouse any suspicions from nosy cab-drivers, but the decision seemed less-worth it as he grumbled irritably at his aching feet.  
He really needed a horse… and the money for one and a place to keep it. 

Walking there, he had already gotten the gist of what Thomas’s house would look like. These long, wide, lanes in the neighborhood were only occupied by four houses at most, houses that had their OWN lanes leading up to them and huge amounts of property to work with. 

The grass glowed with the pinkish tint from dusk as it settled to sleep throughout the sky, thin lines of clouds streaked the canvas.  
This ridiculously beautiful display almost seemed like it was designed to match the neighborhood of which it adorned. 

Alex grew impatient as he travelled down the long lane, still not seeing Thomas’s house; he knew it had to be somewhere around here but these streets were so long and the addresses were so hard to see.  
A carriage drove by close to him and coated him in fine flying dust. Coughing, sputtering and cursing the driver and their family, he stopped in his tracks. 

He had reached the end of the road and it transformed into a slightly wider lane that could fit a carriage and a half across. It was lined on either side by tall trimmed bushes weaved with flowers until it created a loop in front of the house.  
Beyond the bushes the wide field of impossibly green grass, pathways, and towering old trees provided a canvas for the true jewel of the Jefferson property: the manor. 

Made of bricks and decorated with large windows and towering white columns, the Jefferson household didn’t loom so much as it stood proudly and entitled. The cathedral-like dome at the top of the house and the lack of unnecessary gold and silver statues proved both the architectural genius and the good-taste that went into building this masterpiece. 

Alexander tried not to gape like a fish at the sight of the home that would be… exactly the home he would make if he had the money. 

Hotly adjusting his jabot that was sticking annoyingly to his neck, he puffed his chest and strode up the pathway.

Not wanting to go around the loop to the front of the house Alex cut right through the neat grass in a quicker route.  
When he had climbed the steps onto the columned doorstep, he felt extremely small compared to the sheer size of the brick manor. He didn’t feel unsafe or overshadowed, it was a warm feeling of protection, but still, the discomfort of being in a place so wealthy and grand contrasted severely with what he was used to. 

The small man took the brass knocker in hand and gave it several loud raps for good measure.  
There was no immediate response. He strained his ears for any noise but heard only the crickets beginning their nightly lullaby and the summer breeze in the large trees.

Impatiently, he rapped the metal against the door again, louder and more times than before.  
What the hell could he be doing that was so important? 

There was a softened sound from inside; Alex stepped closer to the door,

“I’m coming, Jesus Christ, little fucking prick, I swear…” 

Alex smiled at the muffled voice and backed away from the door a bit.  
Brushing off more dust, he braced himself as he heard the dull vibration of footsteps nearing the entryway, fully expecting to be grabbed inside by a whirl of force and pinned to a wall.  
His heart jumped to his throat in excitement. 

The door swung inwards slowly and revealed the towering Virginian standing entitled and composed, the man’s atmosphere completely matching the estate on which he lived.

He had changed from his scarlet coat to a satin maroon one and Alex realized he hadn’t changed at all since the Cabinet meeting.  
Thomas raised his chin and looked down on him, fully collected and in order, not a hint of hungry fire in his eyes. 

Alex was unpleasantly surprised; Thomas looked like he was ready for a business meeting, not a hookup. 

“Mr. Hamilton.”  
“Mr. Jefferson.” 

They scanned each other’s brown eyes.  
The Virginian’s view shifted to a spot behind Alex. He looked back in lazy annoyance and sighed,

“You walked across my grass, didn’t you, Alexander.” 

“What?”

“You ignored the path and cut across my grass.”

“No I didn’t. Why would you even assume that.”

Thomas rolled his eyes, “I can literally see your footprints in the dew.”

Alex glanced behind himself. He was right. “That wasn’t me.” 

“Who else would have- ah fuck it just get inside, you cretin.” 

“Yes sir.” Alex flashed Thomas a sarcastically sweet smile as he skipped cheerfully by him into the house. 

“Nice place.” He called over his shoulder as Thomas was closing the door.  
“Shoes, Alexander.” 

Alex ignored Thomas’s request as he explored the entrance hall. It was lively and bright, adorned by paintings of people and the estate. Small matching decorative tables were opposite each other on the wall and Alexander picked up a small contraption on it that interested him, turning it over in his hands. 

“Put that down.”  
Thomas had stopped behind him.

“What is it?”  
“It’s something I got from France, now put it down and follow me.” 

Jefferson brushed by him and made way for a hallway to the right.  
Alex grumpily set down the metal contraption and followed Thomas as they turned, not even trying to not admire the Virginian’s sculpted ass. 

“Where’re we going?” Alex inquired. 

“China.” Thomas responded dryly as they entered a large room. 

Alex looked around at the long table and portraits, the glass of wine and plates of cheese on either end of the table, and realized what was going on. It crashed on him all at once. 

“Nope.”

“Alexander-”

“Nope, leaving.”

He turned around on one heel but choked as Thomas snagged his collar and dragged him like a child to one end of the table.  
He plopped him down in the chair with a huff and skirted the table to the other side. 

Thomas tossed his coattails behind him and sat down delicately, scooting the chair close to the table and unfolded his napkin as he selected one square of cheese to eat. 

“What are you doing, Jefferson?”  
Thomas stopped, looked up at him, and slowly answered, “I’m… eating the cheese.” He gestured innocently with his hands to the cheese. 

“No! - you… This!” 

Alex frustratedly tried to convey his message, pointing at the dinner setup in front of him. 

“That’s… still cheese, Alexander.” 

“Cut the shit, Jefferson. What are you trying to do here.” 

Thomas leaned back in his chair, slowly crossing his arms and exhaling, keeping his gaze on Alex.  
“What do YOU think I’m trying to do here?” 

“I’m not exactly sure but it looks like we’re having a romantic anniversary dinner instead of fucking.” 

“So just because I’m not hammering it in your pathetic ass, we’re a married couple?” 

“Kind of, yeah.” 

“That’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard you say, and that’s really saying something.” 

Alexander shot him a searing scowl from across the table. Thomas looked impassively back.

“Are you that slow that I have to just say it, Alexander?”

“Please do,” Alexander rolled his eyes dramatically, picking up the glass of wine and swirling it, “And make it quick, I can tell we’re both horny.” 

“You’re horny.”

“Yeah, and? You are too.” 

“You’d like me to be, Alexander.”

“What happened to saying it quickly?” 

It was Thomas’s turn to throw a glare the other way.  
“What I was trying to say before your incoherent interruption, is that we need to lay down some rules for whatever the fuck this is. Because as far as I can tell that wasn’t the last time we’re gonna screw, or else I’d have just left this whole ordeal alone.” 

“Who says I want to do it again?” Alex leaned forward challengingly. 

“Of course if you don’t, my mistake, you can just leave and I’ll do whatever I will with this little letter of yours.” 

Alex heard the last words so clear, it felt like a smack to the face. His heart skipped a beat.

“what?” he spat.

“Oh don’t you remember? The one I got from my little excursion in your office, the one that led to out first… discipline lesson.”

“And what the fuck does it have to do with us screwing?”

Thomas raised an eyebrow mischievously, eyes beginning to burn with cold fire.  
“I just believe we are in a position to… keep each other in check.”  
Alexander scoffed confusedly, shaking his head in request for an elaboration. 

“You see, Alexander, how am I to know that you won’t use this affair against me? It could ruin me if the political world was to know that I’m a sodomite.”  
Alexander screwed up his mouth in distaste for the word. 

“And I have information that could ruin you. We’re both in a stagnant position. We’ve got each other right where we want each other and nobody to call it off but ourselves.”  
Thomas leaned forward and placed his knitted hands on the table.  
“And quite frankly, I relish the sound of that.” 

Alexander whirled with a mix of excitement and pure fury that Thomas was doing this. He wanted to punch the guy right in the nose, but for some absurd, inexplicable reason, the anger and the way Thomas did everything like it was a battle strategy made him ache for the man even more.  
He would feel like Thomas was trapping him into this relationship if he didn’t want it so bad too. He savored the sight of Thomas, he looked incredibly sexy and erotic in the low candlelight. 

“I hate you.” Alexander bit his lip provocatively.  
He saw Thomas’s eyes flash with hunger. 

“Not so fast, you whore.” Thomas spoke slightly less composed than before, but still in control of Alex now as he was ever.  
“We’re establishing rules.”

“Fucking kidding me.” Alex rolled his head back.

“Alexander, if you weren’t such a discourteous barbarian you’d understand that any relationship, ESPECIALLY sexual, needs to have a basis of ground rules.”

Alex slumped down in his seat, bellyaching. “Okay dad.” He mumbled.

“If you would stop bitching we’d be done by now.”

“Fine, fine, list the rules, asshole.”

“You need to contribute too, that’s the whole point.”  
Alexander groaned exasperatedly and sat up in his seat, finally being attentive to Thomas. 

“Happy?"

“Thank you. Now, First things first, I’m not dating you. Despite that, other people can’t get involved.”

“That’s kind of contradictory, don’t you think?” Alex questioned.

Thomas gave a slight laugh through his nose and smirked.  
“Don’t you think having our little affair even though we’re married men is contradictory?”

“Fair point.”

“Good. So we agree on that one.”  
Thomas nodded in satisfactory and cut himself a small piece of cheese. Alex eyed him carefully and slowly, gingerly, copied the Virginian, begrudgingly giving in to the fact that they were, in fact, dining together. 

“Also, the color system works in replacement of a safe-word for you, no?” 

“Agreed. If anything it allows for more communication.”

“Good. Thanks for actually contributing.” Thomas kept eye contact and placed a small bit of bread in his mouth. Alexander glared. 

“In addition, you should know that Martha is going away for the summer to upstate New York. So you will be staying over at least three nights a week at my house.”  
Thomas casually chewed and wiped his mouth with his napkin.

“Hold on, what?” Alexander choked on his cheese and, coughing, pointing at Thomas with one finger.  
“You can’t do that.” he sputtered, red faced. 

“Actually, I can, Mr. Hamilton. But," He smirked sweetly and gestured to Alex with open hands, "you can make a rule in return.”  
There was a silence as Alexander considered. Three nights a week was a lot for someone he was not even dating and someone he deeply despised. But there was no way he was willing to drop the whole ordeal here and now. Making his own rule would suffice, he decided.

He leaned back in his seat, “Fine. You’re in charge of paying for all expenses of this whole escapade. We’re talking cleaning when I cum all over your furniture.”  
“Wow, not even an ‘if’, huh?”  
“Also, toys and all the exciting things. On you.”  
“That seems fair.” Thomas agreed.  
“Good.” 

There was a long pause. They looked at each other in silence.  
Seconds passed as they visually raked each other’s bodies, hunger growing more and more evident with every passing moment. Clearly, the both of them had been patient in sexual tension for too long and it was finally starting to show. 

God, they couldn’t keep their hands off each other. They both sensed the gradually intensifying heat.

All at once, Alex had finally had enough of the waiting and patience. Enough talk. 

“Fuck it.”  
He stood to make a move towards Thomas, scooting his chair back and shrugging off his coat as he strode hastily towards him.  
In immediate response, Thomas moved his chair back away from the table with his powerful legs, smirking up at Alexander as he seductively swung himself onto Thomas’s lap, one leg on either side of the chair. 

Alex could feel the area of heat below his and muffled a sigh.  
Thomas ran his palms up Alexander’s thighs torturously slowly, and when he finally reached Alex’s hips, he was growing hungry and began pulling the smaller man’s tucked shirt out of his breeches in handfuls.

Alexander smacked his mouth violently onto Thomas’s, intertwining their tongues hotly in a dance of heat as the Virginian’s hands travelled to hastily fumble with the buttons on the immigrant’s waistcoat. 

Their kissing was fast and dirty as they undid each other’s waistcoats and shrugged them urgently to the floor.

Alex pulled away from Thomas’s mouth with an erotic wet sound, “One more thing.” 

He moved to nip and suck at Thomas’s pulse point. “Promise me you’ll always be this rough on me.” he breathed.

Thomas reached behind Alex’s head and seized his hair, scowling in his eyes. “You couldn’t stop me if you tried.” he snarled, tilting the immigrant’s head back harshly, exposing his delicate neck for Thomas to take in his teeth, clamping and sucking.  
Alexander moaned. 

“Shut up.” Thomas barked and yanked his hair sharply. He looked up into Alex’s provocative, fiery eyes. 

“Last rule. I won’t tolerate your shit. We’re going to be honest with each other, am I clear?” 

“Crystal.” Alexander smirked as Thomas devoured his mouth heatedly, raking his tongue across the roof of Alex’s mouth. 

Yes, this was going to be a good evening...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had already planned to write a scene like this, but a similar one is in "What We Can't Have" by nightshiftblues! :)


	11. Counting by Tens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alexander and Thomas have another... discipline lesson at Thomas's house. The two realize just how good their little arrangement is turning out to be...

Still on Thomas’s lap, Alexander grinded deeply against the Virginian’s clothed cock, grabbing the man’s shoulders for leverage. Thomas grinded back against him, harder. Much harder.

“Watch yourself, Hamilton. Remember who’s fucking in charge. ” Thomas bit down hard on Alexander’s neck. Alex whimpered and ignored Thomas’s generous warning. He knew a punishment was coming and God, did he crave it.   
“Well, since I’m on top: me.” Alex whispered, panting.

Thomas immediately clutched Alex’s thighs and stood, lifting the man up with ease. Diggin his nails in, he strode two quick steps towards the table and slammed Alex onto the wood, legs still wrapped around Thomas. Alexander cried out and looked up at the taller man, snarling.   
Thomas’s icy glare slashed into the immigrant.

“I have no words. For how fucking arrogant you are.”   
Never breaking his frigid, bitter, eye contact, he raised a hand and backhanded Alexander across the face. The smaller man’s head snapped to the side, growling before he looked right back, determined to fight against Jefferson’s dominance. 

“Your disobedience is out of control. You are a disgraceful slut, Alexander.”   
Thomas put extra emphasis on the word slut, he spat the dirty word at Alex, his accent thick and incredibly erotic on his tongue. 

He cocked his head, “Say it, whore. Tell me how much of a naughty bitch you are.”   
Thomas smirked cooly and gently, too gently, placed a hand on Alex’s throat, stroking the delicate skin softly with his thumb. Alex exposed his neck even more. 

He wasn’t going to let him win. Thomas was just as arrogant and insufferable, Thomas couldn’t quench Alexander’s raging fire of hatred for him; this was a battle of wills.  
Alex made up his mind. Thomas was going to have to beat the submission out of him.

“No.” He hissed slowly. 

Thomas glared lividly in surprise, “What?” He spat. 

“I’m sorry, are you fucking deaf? I. Said. no.” Alexander raised an eyebrow provocatively at Thomas. The Virginian breathed through clenched teeth as he slowly increased his iron grip on Alexander’s neck. He began to see sparks and choked at the pressure.

Thomas’s deep, gravelly voice whispered, “Strip. Now.” 

Thomas violently shoved his neck into the table and let go, backing up dangerously. Alex sputtered. 

Thomas took a couple steps back, his black eyes boring into Alexander’s as he sat up on the table. He looked dark and menacing as he slowly undid his belt and slid it out of the loops, turning it over in one hand.  
“I said.” He let the belt swing ever so slowly. Threateningly. “Strip.” 

Alexander’s heart was thudding with the thrill of adrenaline. He could hardly think as he began excitedly pulling off his shirt, removing his pants hastily as Thomas stood and watched him, unmoving.   
The threat, the danger looming around Thomas Jefferson… it was already making an incredibly-horny Alex even harder as he anticipated what was to be done with him. 

Alex was completely naked on the table, the flat surface hard and cold against his ass. He shivered as goosebumps spread along his body in waves.   
Thomas had stripped himself as well. Just as he had last time, he was graceful and delicate in the process, making it seem like the clothing fell right off him, whereas Alex struggled and strained to escape the satin prison. 

“On your belly, dirty slut. I won’t fucking ask twice.”   
Alexander sensed the strictness in his voice, it left no room for any more disobedience. Alex slowly and reluctantly did as he was told, glowering over his shoulder at Thomas who was menacingly folding the belt in half. 

“Here’s what I’m gonna do to you, Alexander.” He drawled. “If you interrupt me I’m going to kick your fucking ass more than I’m already going to.” 

Alexander rolled his eyes and snorted out loud, “Sure tough guy, do your worst. Maybe I’ll actually get a decent bruise this time.” 

There was a crack and a flash of white hot pain across the left side of his ass, the sting reverberating for seconds after. 

“Fuck!” Alex roared at the pain, squeezing his eyes shut. Thomas grabbed his hair and yanked his head back.   
“What did I just say!?” He scolded Alexander loudly, pressing the tip of his searing cock to Alexander’s entrance. 

Still not letting go of the immigrant’s hair, he continued what he had started.   
“Listen now, bitch. You’re going to get the belt ten times before you so much as touch my cock. You’re going to count- out loud- until I get to ten. If you scream or whimper, or moan, it’s another strike.”

Thomas released Alexander’s hair, the smaller man angrily looking back over his shoulder once again.  
“Lastly, you have lost cock stimulation privileges. You’re going to cum from prostate stimulation only. Maybe now you’ll learn your fucking lesson.”   
Alexander growled in fury. This challenge just became a lot more difficult. His blood surged with hatred for the Secretary of State. 

Thomas shifted behind Alexander and gripped the belt tightly in hand, flexing his jaw sexily. Alexander braced himself. 

The first four came down one right after the other. Strong and brisk, it was obvious that an expert hand was controlling the blows as they struck loudly on the Treasurers sculpted ass, the slapping of leather reverberating through the house. 

Thomas paused, the metal buckle jingling in the silence. Alex looked back over his shoulder to see Thomas smirking approvingly at four pink lines emerging on his ass. He looked at Alexander, “Keep counting, princess. You won’t be able to feel your dirty ass when I’m done with you.”  
“Yes, daddy.” Alexander moaned exaggeratedly obscenely and turned his head back forward, bracing once more. 

The belt connected with his skin once again, much harder this time. Gasping, Alexander exhaled out a very shaky, “Five.” 

Six through eight were more spaced out but progressively harsher and harsher. He could feel the tears beginning to prick at the corners of his tightly sealed eyes; he breathed deeply.

“Nine.” He choked, straining to contain a sob after the leather connected with his skin. Only one more…   
There was a longer pause than any before. He pressed his cheek to the wood table, awaiting the blow nervously. Seconds passed until-

“Ten!” the blow collided harder than any of the previous ones combined, his hips bucking in response to the sharp whiplash. There were several moments of intense silence as he breathed.

Alex exhaled deeply and slumped onto the table, relaxing all his muscles and panting at the release.   
“Good boy…” Thomas’s low voice grumbled behind him.   
After Alex had caught his breath, he propped himself up on his elbows and twisted to look at Thomas. 

The Virginian gently ran his fingertips over the curve of Alex’s raw ass, feeling his way tenderly over the pink welts he had created. Alex flinched and jerked at the stinging twinge, shuddering under the touch.  
“Feels good, hmm?” Thomas purred disgustingly sweetly. 

“Feels like a fucker just whipped the shit out of me.” Alex winced as he spoke.   
“Ha. Good… are you ready for your reward, my little jouet précieux?” 

Alexander surprised himself by moaning in needy response. Being condescended by Thomas in French had more of an effect on him than he would’ve thought, and he felt an urgent rush of heat flood his lower belly.  
He had waited. He had waited long enough and weathered the punishment and been as obedient as possible to the arrogant, self centered, aristocrat. He had been good. It was time he received the sweetest payback of all, the Virginian’s mouth-watering cock. He wanted it now more than ever. 

“I take that as a yes.” Thomas smirked confidently. He raised his chin in the air.   
“Turn over. I want to look right in your eyes when you cum.” 

Alexander did as he was told without complaint and rolled onto his back stiffly, the cold tabletop shocking his stinging ass.   
Thomas laughed at the sight of Alex wincing and got observably harder. 

Alexander scoffed, “You like it when I’m in pain, don’t you, you sick fuck.”  
“Immensely.” Thomas smiled sweetly and nodded in mock politeness to him. 

The Secretary of State positioned himself at Alexander’s entrance and looked at the smaller man, extending his palm towards his face.   
“Spit.” Thomas commanded. 

“What?” Alex snorted in disgust.   
“Spit. Or else I’m going in dry. I don’t give a fuck which one it is.” 

Alex gaped at the degrading thing he was being asked to do. It was disgusting and he fucking loved it, his cock swelled more.   
“You’re despicable.” Alex growled and spat into Thomas’s waiting hand. 

“Disgusting.” he mumbled again as he watched Thomas take that hand and run it deliciously up his cock, coating it and smiling mockingly down at Alexander the whole time.   
Thomas extended two fingers to Alex again.  
“Open.” he commanded and Alex complied with the most loathing scowl he had ever given. 

“Cut the fucking attitude. I have no problem with not doing this for you.” Thomas scolded as Alexander ran his tongue over the fingers, rolling his eyes. 

Thomas wasted no time in getting started with Alexander, he was starving to be inside the smaller man and wasn’t going to take any scenic routes.   
He immediately shoved the the lubricated fingers into Alex. who bucked in response. 

“Fuck!” He sqealed, lifting his head to look, open mouthed, at where Thomas was fingering him. The sight propelled Thomas onward.  
He scissored his fingers hastily and pushed them in and out in a deep, quick motion for thirty seconds. 

“I’m ready, I’m ready!” Alexander finally moaned, leaning his head back onto the table, “Please.”  
“Please what?” Thomas questioned, shoving the fingers in as deep as possible. 

Alex gasped, “Please fuck me! Daddy, please!” 

“Fine.” Thomas agreed, satisfied with the needy man’s begging. He removed his fingers and replaced them immediately with the tip of his cock, slamming in his full length with a force that would've thrown Alex off the table if it wasn’t for his iron grip on his hips. 

“Yes!” Alex whined loudly, “Faster!” 

Thomas decided to comply with the man’s desires since he had already beaten some manners into him with their belting session. The immigrant would get a short grace period and he would be grateful for it, Thomas would make sure of that. 

Thomas sped up his pace, hips hammering against Alex’s thighs with every pounding.   
“You like that, huh? You like when I fuck you senseless.” 

Alexander moaned, head falling back in pleasure as he began to melt with the sensation.  
“Yes daddy… oh fuck…oh…”

“I can’t believe I have to fuck you on the dining room table. You, naughty slut. Just to make you behave...”   
“Yes, yes, yes….” Alexander whimpered, helplessly squirming under him, hips jumping wildly with every thrust, trying to roll into Thomas’s pelvis to match his pace. 

Soon Alex was shaking with every violent thrust, wailing as Thomas’s cock brushed so torturously close to his prostate. He was so close… so incredibly close… all he needed would be a little stroke to his cock. He knew he wasn’t allowed to, but he was rapidly losing all grip on reality as the pleasure mounted to an unbearable level. 

He weakly reached his limp arm outwards, groping blindly for his cock as he was being rocked back and forth by thrusts.   
Thomas immediately saw what he was trying to do and seized Alexander’s wrist, slamming flat onto the table above his head with the other one. 

Alexander sobbed with desperate need.   
“Rules are rules, Alexander.” 

With the lack of grip on his hip bones, Alex was being lifted off the table with every harsh thrust, Thomas’s cock striking his prostate every time with this new position. He felt himself getting close to his climax, his breathing sped up loudly in short gasps.   
“I’m going to cum! God… Fuck… Please let me… please… I… I…” 

His words stumbled out incoherently as he begged and whimpered. 

Alex knew that the sight of him falling apart, squirming and crying and begging for release was exactly what Thomas wanted as he felt him cum warmly inside of him, filling him up with his hot release. 

Thomas was never as loud as Alex, Alex was loud enough for the both of them, but he lived for hearing Thomas hiss after he cummed.   
“Oh… Fuck…” The Virginian squeezed his eyes shut in ecstacy, panting. 

Alex knew he could cum now that Thomas had, so he wasted no time in arching his back and letting his orgasm completely take him away, not trying to contain it at all. 

“Thomas!” He screamed as he released powerfully all over his belly just as he had done the night before. 

He shook and shivered as the final drops squirted out, whimpering and panting as Thomas’s eyes undoubtedly watched the whole show hungrily. 

Thomas pulled out gently as Alex bit his lip, whining.

Alexander was a sight to behold as his eyes remained closed, his whole body twitching in pleasure. 

God, for somebody he hated more than anyone else he knew… he was loving whatever the hell this was between them…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> S M U T! Please comment if you like, I love reading them! Next chapter on its way! :)


	12. A Spark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas gives Alexander no choice in spending the night at his house, and they both realize something very important as they are about to fall asleep...

Alexander panted for a few more seconds, laying on his back. In front of him, Thomas ran his fingers through his sweaty hair, slicking it away from his face and took a deep pleased breath, smiling a bit to himself in exhaustion. 

After a few seconds, Alexander grunted as he stiffly propped himself up, leaning back on his hands and wincing at the discomfort. The man was gently laughing to himself as well.   
He looked down at the ground, smiling and laughing through his nose then looked up at the taller man, “Well, shit.” He breathed. 

There was a beat of silence, then all at once, out of nowhere, the two enemies burst out laughing. Alexander slapped the wooden table he was on with his palm as Thomas covered his face with his hand and wheezed. Maybe it was the flaccid dicks, maybe the pure absurdity of everything that had just happened, maybe a combination of both, but the two took an entire minute to come back down from their sudden ridiculous outburst. 

“God,” Thomas swiped under his eyes quickly, “You look like a fucking stroodle” 

Alex looked down at himself, he was indeed adorned festively with a generous amount of white substance, leaking out onto the table and decorating his belly. He gave Thomas the middle finger.   
“You look like John Adams tried to run a mile.”  
“Fuck off.”  
“With pleasure.” 

Alexander scooted into a sitting position stiffly as Thomas watched the struggle in amusement.  
Alexander dished him another glare as he hopped down from the table and started to hobble out of the dining room door, limping back towards the entrance hall.   
“Where the fuck are you going?” Thomas sighed at him.

“To the bathroom.” Alex called over his shoulder as he stepped unevenly out of sight.   
“You don’t even know where the bathroom is!” Thomas called again and in a second there was a faint response from somewhere in the house.   
“Found your room!” 

Thomas shook his head incredulously and turned to the discarded clothes all over the dining room floor, fussing over the mess in his orderly house and folding them neatly into piles. After the few minutes it took for him to fold and arrange the clothes, he strode out of the dining room to try and find Alexander. It wasn’t difficult.

“Alexander!” Thomas called when he entered the threshold of his bedroom, “You slug, you left a fucking cum trail across the house.”  
“I know.” Thomas heard the muffled voice from inside his bathroom, the door cracked open and Alex peeked his head out, smiling.  
“Your problem now, guess who’s in charge of expenses?”  
“You’re disgusting.”   
Alexander stuck out his tongue childishly as he closed the door on Thomas, still talking faintly.   
“I’ve got a quote for you, ‘spit in my hand’.”   
“Oh go fuck yourself.” Thomas made his way across the floor.  
“Can’t hear you, washing my junk!” Alex hollered as water splashed quietly behind the door. 

“Barbarian…” Thomas mumbled to himself, shaking his head as he pulled open the middle door of his dresser that contained his silk nightclothes. He selected a set for himself and a set for Alexander before pushing it closed with his knee and turning left to where his bed alcove was. 

The Virginian set the clothes down on the scarlet satin covers and slipped into his set with ease, the silk flowing comfortably over his skin as he carefully climbed into bed. He laid on his back with his face calmly up at the ceiling and closed his eyes, peacefully waiting for the immigrant to finish up in the bathroom. He sighed. 

Thomas’s room was simple and pleasant. Upon entering the bathroom door was to the left, the bed alcove was diagonal right on the far wall, and to the right there were the windows with the small lounge area and the dresser and wardrobe on the wall nearest the door. To the left of the bed alcove there was a beautiful door that led to his study.   
The place was a spot of ease and comfort to Thomas with its familiarity and simplicity. Tonight the windows were cracked allowing the warm summer breeze to slightly drift in… The sweet scent of water lilies wafted in the air… 

“Well! Thanks for the jolly good fucking but I best be on my way.”  
Alexander burst noisily out of the bathroom, jolting Thomas rudely out of his lull. 

“Jesus fucking Christ Alexander…” Thomas had bolted upright and clutched his heart in shock. 

“Where’d you put my clothes?”  
“In the dining room.” Thomas answered still catching his breath from the sudden surprise, blinking.   
“Gee thanks for the convenience.” Alex rolled his eyes in dramatic exasperation and made way to the door, “See you tomorrow.” 

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Thomas’s tone stopped the naked, but now clean, Alexander in his tracks. He pivoted on his heel to face him, impatient.   
“Where the hell do YOU think I’m going? Home.” Alex stated obviously.   
“No the fuck you’re not.”  
“Yes, I am.”   
“It’s really late.”  
“Clouds can be grey sometimes.”  
“What?”  
“Oh, sorry I thought we were saying random shit that don’t matter.” 

“Alexander.” Thomas called his name firmly as the man was just making a leave again. Alex turned around once again gritting his teeth in restless annoyance. 

“You’re staying over tonight because that was the rule we agreed to and that’s. It. End of story. Now get your sorry-ass over here.”  
Thomas commanded, sitting up in bed. Alexander fumed at his place in the threshold.  
“Back up one fucking second, who said you get to decide the nights that I stay over?”  
“Who said I didn’t get to decide?” Thomas raised a dark eyebrow smartly. 

Alex’s face glowed as he stood, stuck in a checkmate. He resorted to his last method.  
“This is so fucking unfair.” He grumbled, crossing his arms.   
“Quite the lawyer you are.” Thomas snorted, tossing the set of nightclothes to the small immigrant who just narrowly caught them with a thud. 

“Clothe yourself.”  
Alexander’s scowl was semi-hidden behind the mass of satin piled in his arms as Thomas watched on in amusement. 

“You’re kidding.” The immigrant gaped as he un-balled the shirt and pants. He held them up showing their length and blinked in astonishment.   
“I can’t wear this shit, it’s tailored for the fucking statue on second and third street.” he guffawed, looking the garments up and down.  
“Stop your bitching, they’re incredibly comfortable, you’d see if you’d stop whining like a child.” 

“I’m not a child.” Alexander spat as he begrudgingly began to slip himself into the oversized clothing.  
“You’re definitely a child.”  
“How old are you?”  
“Twenty.”  
“I’m older, beat you.”  
“To what? Birth?”  
“Yes.”  
“Well congratulations on that.”

Their bickering came to a close just as Alexander had finished pulling the shirt and pants on and turned around again to face Thomas, his expression perfect saying, “You’re. Fucking. Kidding me.”   
Thomas covered his grin with one hand but his eyes said everything that Alex needed to know about how he looked. 

The shirt fell at least four inches below his knees, the sleeves completely surpassing his hands and continuing onwards. The pants pooled in folds of fabric on the floor at his feet.   
“My, my, I’m afraid I’ve seen a ghost.” Thomas snorted, noting Alex’s resemblance of an evanescent spirit. 

“Fuck you. This is why I don’t like you.”   
“Get over here.”  
“No. I’ll sleep on the floor.”   
“Alexander.”   
“Nope, look, heading down.”  
Thomas smirked at the Treasurer. “Alexander you’re going to get fucking cold.” 

Alexander stopped, turning his head and narrowed his eyes at the Virginian who had found the Caribbean man’s only weakness. The man was annoyingly clever and it made Alexander want to slap the smile off his arrogant face. To Alexander’s deepest resentment, the guy had a point and he had to make a choice of being miserable with cold or miserable with Jefferson. 

“Fine but you’re going to regret this.” Alexander scowled and shuffled towards the bed, trying not to trip on the dragging clothing. Thomas raised his nose in the air in cocky triumph.   
“What’re you going to do, kick me in your sleep?”  
“Yeah right, ‘in my sleep’.” Alexander snorted with air quotes, “Thanks for the idea Jeffs.” he indelicately pulled back the crimson satin covers and swung his legs into the bed, huffing, as Thomas fluffed up his pillow. 

“Don’t call me that.”  
“What, Jeffs? Okay, Tom.”   
“Alex-”  
“TJ.”  
“Alexander Hamilton I will close your motherfucking mouth for you.”   
“Tommy Jeffs- mmph!” 

Alexander’s relentless taunting was cut off abruptly as Thomas unexpectedly rolled on top of the small man and pressed his lips onto his.   
Alexander’s eyes widened in shocked surprise as the taller man’s protective weight pressed down on him, elbows on either side of the baffled immigrant.

They melted together in a gentle battle of warm lips, Thomas lapping gently and carefully into Alexander’s semi-open mouth for several seconds. The connection was much different than what they had done before this. It was tender, peaceful...

After a few long seconds the realization of what they were doing crashed into Alexander like a wall. 

His eyes snapped open in fury as he ripped away from Thomas’s lips in a haste, pushing the Virginian up with his palms.   
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” 

“Exactly what I said I’d do.” Thomas’s brown eyes hovered close above him.   
“Not like that! Ugh I can hardly breathe,” Alex squirmed under Thomas’s heavier body, “get off me you whale.” The virginian rolled his eyes.   
“Flattering.” he grunted as he rolled off to the side of Alex, laying on his back and sighing heavily. 

“Get under the blankets, I want to go to sleep and you’re a human paperweight.”   
“So urgent to get to bed, Alexander? As I recall you had one foot out the door two minutes ago.”   
“Get under the covers.” 

“Alexander.” Thomas warned in his drawl, blinking in lazy annoyance, yawning as if Alexander’s sudden change in mood was commonplace to him. “What exactly is your problem now?”   
“I don’t have a ‘problem’. I don’t have any ‘problems’. You said it yourself, it’s late. I’m tired so I’m going to fucking sleep. Good fucking night.”   
The immigrant fussily fluffed his pillow once and turned over with emphasis, his back to Thomas as he pulled as much of the blanket over him as possible and went still.

Thomas sighed and rolled his eyes in tired knowingness.   
“You’re mad because I kissed you, aren’t you?”   
There was a pause. Alexander turned his head and glowered over his shoulder. “What?” He spat at the Virginian.   
“You’re angry with me because I kissed you.” 

Alexander scoffed.“No the fuck I’m not. I’m angry because you won’t let me go to sleep.”   
Thomas brushed off his response, “No, Alexander, you’re mad because you feel even the slightest touch of intimacy and you recoil like a tomcat from water.”

The Virginian had propped himself up on his forearm and was narrowing his eyes at the smaller man, analyzing his tendencies. “You’d rather run than have someone actually show you some tenderness.”

Alexander seethed and sharply turned back towards Thomas, fuming, their faces mere inches apart.   
“You don’t know shit about me, rich boy.” Alex hissed through clenched teeth. Thomas’s gaze slightly twitched as he calmly observed the fire crackling in the Treasurer’s eyes. Alex licked his lips.

“The one very important detail that you’re forgetting, Mr. Secretary, is the one that’s been there since the beginning of all this shit. I don’t like you. Not in the fucking slightest. In fact, I fucking hate you. And nobody, especially not you, can change that. So pardon me if I don’t jump for joy when my rival swoons over the kiss he just gave me.” 

The two stared at each other for a moment of electric tension, Alexander’s burning eyes gouging into Thomas’s infuriatingly calm ones. Seconds passed as their hearts beat rapid symphonies. 

Alexander broke the spell by turning angrily from Thomas once again and flopping himself down irritably in the covers, head on his pillow, back turned on the other man. 

“We’ll see about that....” Thomas mumbled so that only he could hear his words, grinning cooly and finally slipping under the covers.  
He blew out the candle on the small alcove shelf and shuffled himself around in the sheets until he was comfortably facing the back of Alexander, staring at the small man. The rustling linens stopped as he fully settled. 

The Secretary of State gazed the immigrant, his eyes strolled lazily atop his long brown hair spilling onto the pillow in the moonlight. Why had he kissed him? Thomas gazed back at the ceiling. He knew that this whole situation would be a lot easier if he hadn’t, so there must have been a reason for him doing it. He waited in silence. 

In the back of his head a little idea… a little voice sparked weakly for a split second before Thomas pinched it out. No, it wasn’t possible. He wouldn’t let it be possible. Thomas shook the little spark from his mind and distracted himself with other thoughts. But nevertheless… It had been there. 

Thirty minutes had passed in total silence between the men, the moonlight patch slowly began its crawl across the floor. 

The tension had slipped away into the night and Thomas had already begun to drift under the warmth and the scent of water lilies. Getting farther and farther away from reality, Thomas let himself go to where his dreaming would take him, the weightless feeling already setting deep into his bones…

“Thomas…” A small voice whispered. It sounded reluctant and even a little guilty. He continued floating, curious. 

“Thomas.” The voice stated, firmer now. He jolted a bit, realizing the voice was coming from the lump next to him.   
“Wha-” Thomas croaked, blinking his eyes open. He couldn’t see a damn thing, so he leaned groggily over and fumbled precariously with the matches until he had sparked and lit the shelf candle.   
He turned back to the lump that was Alexander, propping himself on his forearms. 

“What.” He gestured impatiently with his hands. 

His eyes finally focused on Alexander. The small man was facing him in bed now, and he looked embarrassed and irritated with himself. He sighed and got right to the point.   
“I’m… really cold.” 

Three simple words and something in Thomas’s chest shifted a little bit. 

“You’re cold?”   
“Yeah.” Alex sighed in defeat. There was a beat of silence.

Thomas opened his arms, holding the blanket space between them open for Alex to move.   
“Come here.”   
“What?”   
“You heard me.” Thomas wasn’t going to repeat it twice. 

For once Alexander didn’t complain or protest, didn’t whine or retort. The small man simply shifted over to Thomas’s side of the bed and gave in to Thomas’s embrace.

It was so much warmer for him there, he felt his freezing skin immediately begin to absorb the heat radiating from Thomas’s body. 

Alexander’s forehead rested pressed against Thomas’s chest, the tall man curled protectively around him. Thomas’s arms were around his waist while Alex’s were curled against the Virginian’s belly. Their legs intertwined under the sheets as Thomas rested his head gently on top of the smaller man’s.   
They breathed deeply in the silence that followed the comforting embrace. 

The summer breeze wafted in through the window.

The patch of moonlight crawled calmly across the floor. 

And that is how the two enemies fell asleep…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment! Thanks for reading! :)


	13. Virginians' Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alexander and Thomas have breakfast after waking up together and, of course, things begin to heat up before they are interrupted by a knock on the door... James Madison arrives and an eavesdropping Alexander finds out about a certain someone's digging in his Treasury records...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO sorry about the wait! Next chapter SOON, thank you so much for reading! <3

A warm light from behind his eyelids and the aroma of cooking food ever so gently nudged Alexander Hamilton out of sleep. He took a deep whiff of the scent and fluttered open his eyes, blinking against the light until they focused on the surrounding room. The windows were open leaving the young treasurer fairly chilly, but it cast a pleasant morning light on the room’s contents, the sitting area and ornate dresser.

Alex took a good moment to let his memory catch up to him, squinting down at the scarlet sheets of the expensive bed. Everything slowly washed back to him, the argument, the way the two had fallen asleep together. What did it mean?  
If anything, Alex was not used to being in the dark about something, and the whole situation was making his emotions spin like wagon wheels. It was uncontrolled and thrilling and agitating at the same time. 

The treasurer pulled back the blankets and swung his feet out of bed, long pants spilling around his feet on the wooden floor as he padded to the bathroom, pulling his hair into a ponytail has he went. 

When he had tied back his hair and looked up to mirror, he gasped.

“Oh… shit...” 

If he had thought his neck was bad the other day, it looked like a war zone now. He half expected to see trenches. There were bite marks sprinkled throughout the dark bruises and one significantly larger bite mark where Thomas liked to take Alex’s entire throat and clamp on it. 

Alexander was all for that move, it was one of his biggest turn-ons, but god, did it look like a disaster. He gingerly touched it and exposed his skin to the light. 

The strangest part was that he wasn’t disgusted by any of this at all. A little thrill shot through his gut. He felt like he had been marked, owned, like he belonged to Thomas and Thomas was displaying it. The possession excited him more than he would have thought. He nodded to his reflection, puzzled.

Still wearing Thomas’s clothes, he exited the bathroom and carefully meandered through the house, following the pleasant smell of breakfast and half frightened that he would run into some unsuspecting maid.  
However, he encountered nobody as he finally stepped into the threshold of a startlingly bright room, blinking at the contrast from the rest of the house.

The parlor was astoundingly lavish, sizeable windows lined the round room, casting their light up into the domed ceiling. Thomas’s art collection decorated most of the blank space on the walls, and the floor was dominated by tables, plush chairs, and a gaping marble fireplace. 

This is where Alex pinpointed the enticing aroma’s origin. And whom was the creator.   
He clucked his tongue mockingly, announcing his presence, “Thomas Jefferson. Once again proves himself to be quite the cook.” 

Thomas turned around at the sound of Alexander’s voice and smiled in mock surprise.   
“Ah, so the sleeping maiden finally awakens. And God does she look beautiful.” 

Alex sauntered towards Thomas, batting his eyelashes and running a hand over his obnoxiously untidy hair. “Beautiful, indeed. But enormously damn hungry. I haven’t eaten in years.”  
“We ate nine hours ago.”   
“Point proven.” 

“Well,” Thomas turned back to the fire to poke at the items in the pan with a wooden spatula, “since you so subtly hinted, I’m making omelets and bacon for your ungrateful ass.”   
The food sizzled deliciously at the touch and Alexander’s mouth watered. He swallowed. 

“Any specific reason why you’re cooking in the living room?”   
Thomas didn’t face back towards him to answer, “I thought you’d prefer to not walk outside and eat on the dirt floor but please correct me if I’m wrong.”  
Alex threw his hands up in innocence, “Parlor is fine.”  
“That’s what I thought.” 

Alex sidled closer to the fire and wedged next to the taller man, peeking in the pan that was suspended above the crackling fire. The omelets and thick cut bacon looked delicious and, thankfully, almost done. The heat from the fire buffeted against his face. 

Thomas scooped the food with the spatula onto two waiting plates on a stand beside the fire and handed one to Alexander without looking at him. He took the other one for himself, turned, and stepped to the other side of the room to sit at a tea table. Alex watched him as he pulled out a chair and sat down to eat. 

“Uh, wanna eat by the fire? It’s warmer.”  
“Go ahead.” Thomas spoke offhandedly, looking down at his food and beginning to eat.

“That was an invitation, you know.”   
“I do.” Thomas responded dryly, setting down his fork for a water glass and drinking sophisticatedly.   
Alex nodded “Oh okay, well I’ll just go fuck myself then.” he scoffed in annoyance and made his way to sit cross-legged on the floor, placing the plate on his lap. 

Thomas sighed and set the water down exasperatedly, turning his head to Alexander for once, bemused. “Alexander, cut the bullshit. You’re the one that wants nothing to do with me unless I’m fucking you senseless. So what do you want?” 

Alex was shocked by the sudden honesty. He was shocked even more that for once in his life he didn’t have ample answer to the question at hand. He sputtered and looked down at his lap. 

“I don’t know, it’s just weird if you make me food and then don’t sit with me.”  
“So do you want me to come sit with you?” 

Alexander met Thomas’s eyes with some self-unexpected hope. There was a pause before Alex helplessly cracked a smile.  
“Yeah, get your raggedy-ass over here.”   
“Watch that attitude, Hamilton, or I’ll beat it out.”  
“Is that a promise?” 

Alex laughed as Thomas strolled over and sat down “accidentally” kicking Alex in the shins.   
They ate the rest of their meal together, bickering and taunting, filling up every bit of silence with their effortless conversation.

The sight of the two of them was the most unlikely scene anyone could conceive. Alexander Hamilton and Thomas Jefferson, political enemies, rich men, wearing each other’s clothes and sitting on the floor together, laughing and picking arguments like it was the most natural thing in the world. It didn’t seem possible, and yet. 

Thomas stood with a sigh and extended down a hand for Alex’s plate, who complied.  
“Thanks, sweetheart.” Alex mocked. “Shine my shoes when you get back, will ya.”

Thomas scowled as the shorter man stood and made the mistake of turning his back to him to pick up his water glass. Thomas dished him a crisp slap on his sculpted ass.   
Alexander recoiled as if he had been burned and yelped, whirling back around. 

“Wow, I knew you were a sensitive little bitch but that’s a new record for you.” Thomas snorted.  
Alex grimaced “No, you fuck, my ass… Christ.” he winced as he glided a hand over his ass.

Realization dawned on Thomas’s face as he remembered what he had done to the young man the night before. 

“It can’t be that bad, I was so easy on you.”   
“Tell that to my ass!” Alex snarled  
“Well what does it look like?”  
“I don’t know, haven’t checked.”   
“Drop your pants.”  
“Classy.”  
“Come here.” 

Alexander scowled, turned away from Thomas and lifted the long shirt up so it was at his waist. The Virginian stepped closer and slipped his fingers in the waistline of the pants and pulled down carelessly, the fabric rubbing on Alex’s ass. 

He gasped, “Careful! What’re you trying to do, dickhead, flay me?” he spat.   
“I won’t hesitate to slap it again, watch that mouth of yours.” 

Alexander whimpered as Thomas inched his pants down to his thighs and stopped. He heard Thomas quietly whisper,  
“Fuck…” 

“What? What’s it look like?” Thomas didn’t respond immediately and Alex turned his head over his shoulder, agitated.   
“Are you fucking deaf?” 

Alex trailed off as he saw Thomas’s face, his dark eyes hungry as they scanned the landscape of Alexander’s skin. He looked down to check the damage himself. He was pleasantly shocked; there were raised welts along both cheeks, pink and purple streaks marking where the belt had punished him. None were bleeding, but they were all sufficiently harsh and lasting strikes, proving the expert hand that had made them.

Alex swallowed and looked back at Thomas. His eyes widened when he saw...

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me. Are you getting hard from this?” he scoffed.   
Thomas looked up darkly. 

Alexander hardly finished his words before he was swept to the wall by the fireplace and had his front pressed to it. Alex protested loudly and squirmed at the uncomfortable sensation of his cock against the cold surface. 

Thomas ignored his whining and leaned his lips in close to the shorter man’s ear, breathing a bit faster than normal.  
“Don’t you dare shame me, bitch. Who do you think you are?” he whispered dangerously.

Alex squirmed. “You’re sick. You disgusting sick fuck. You like it when you hurt me.”   
The Virginian responded by menacingly pressing his bulge into Alexander’s ass, winning him a guttural moan as he took two fingers and dragged them over his left cheek, just hard enough to be painful. Alex squealed. 

“Oh, I love seeing you squirm in pain. Hearing you whimper and cry.” He bit Alex’s ear, “But oh, do you love it when I hurt you. You know you love it, you filthy little slut. Tell daddy how much you love it.”   
Thomas growled deeply as he bit where the shoulder meets the neck, Alexander exposed it to him, moaning. 

“I…” 

At that exact moment three loud knocks rang clearly through the house.

The two men jolted and sprang away from each other, knocking over Alex’s water glass, which shattered to the floor chaotically. 

“Shit!” Thomas hopped as it hit the floor, trying to avoid the shards with his bare feet. Alexander frantically pulled his pants back up with considerable pain and looked up at Thomas wildly.

“Who’s at the door?!” he exclaimed, unmasked panic in his eyes.   
“I- I don’t know, I dismissed the servants, I don’t know who possibly-” He stopped abruptly, heart plummeting coldly into his stomach. 

“What? What, Thomas, say something.”

Thomas ran his fingers disastrously through his hair, time going in slow motion as he breathed a devastated, “Shit….”   
He cupped his hands over his nose and mouth, looking down at the floor.   
“It’s James.” 

“What?”   
“James Madison. We share a carriage to work.”

Alexander froze, gaping, baffled, at Thomas Jefferson.   
“You’d better tell me this is some sick joke right now, Thomas-” Alexander stepped towards him in shocked fury. 

“Calm the fuck down, I need to find a place for you to hide.” Alexander grabbed him by the shirt and bunched up the fabric, looking up into Thomas’s panicked eyes.  
“Hide? Hide? This is fucking great. Perfect! James fucking Madison finds Alexander Hamilton having an affair with Thomas Jefferson; this is perfect. I’m dead, we’re both dead! Shoot, me Thomas, do it quickly-”  
“Would you shut UP!” Thomas barked at the incoherent ranting.

“You can’t go upstairs, he’ll see you from the door. Go to the dining room and STAY there.”   
“What? This is hopeless.” But Thomas was already shoving Alexander towards the dining room door. 

“Don’t make a single sound or I’ll have you ass, Hamilton.”   
“You know what, fuck you. This is ridiculous.”  
Thomas shoved him into the dining room and slapped him across the mouth brutally. Alex clenched his teeth and snarled viciously in pain and ferocity. 

“Not a. Fucking. Sound.” and the dominant man slammed the door closed on Alex’s face. 

Alex let out a yell of frustration and punched the back of the door briskly for good measure. Un-fucking-believable. The man was outrageous, his astounding asshole-ery baffled Alexander to no end, and it infuriated him.

He turned to face the empty dining room and put his hands on his head, exhaling stressfully and squeezing his eyes shut. How did he get himself into this situation again? 

He walked around the edge of the long wooden table and spotted a folded square of clothing. Eyes lighting up, he remembered that Thomas had left his clothes here last night after they had had sex. Alex blushed as the thought surprised him, jumping into his head uninvited. “Thomas Jefferson fucked me on this very table…” the immigrant thought as lifted the clothing, ruining its impossibly neat creases and clambering into it messily. He left Thomas’s nightclothes in a crumpled pile on the floor, not bothering to pick it up. 

There was a sharp noise from the other side of the door, causing Alex to whip his head around in alertness. After a moment of consideration, he crept carefully to the door, pressing his cheek against the cold, sleek wood, straining for any sound. 

It came louder and closer than expected. Alexander tried not to jolt.

“Honestly, James, you’ve seen this room a thousand times.”  
“Quite aware, but you know that I love the architecture, it never gets old.”  
“To you.”  
“Indeed.”

Their footsteps clunked deeper into the center of the room, passing Alexander as he held his breath, heart thudding audibly in his chest.

“I don’t see why we couldn’t ’ve talked in the library. Or hey, maybe actually go to work.”   
“So impatient.” James Madison’s footsteps wandered a few steps around the room, “One might mistake you for Alexander Hamilton these days.” 

There was a tangible tension in the air for a few moments before Alex heard Thomas force out a strained laugh.   
Alex realized he was holding his breath and let it go slowly. 

James cleared his voice and talked again, “Speaking of the devil,” Alexander’s heart leaped into his throat once more, “I think we need to go in a new direction in our digging and I’ve found a different approach to the whole affair-”  
“James let’s talk about this later, now’s not a good time.”

Thomas’s voice was rigidly cold with a waver of panic that only the man on the other side of the door could detect. Alexander was completely perplexed as to what they were talking about. He furrowed his brows suspiciously and pressed closer to the door; he knew it had to be him. What was this? 

“Thomas, this could be our lead in this ordeal, we’ve got to-”

“You know, I really think we should drop the whole thing.”  
“Excuse me?”  
“You heard. Maybe we should consider laying off.”

There were two clunks on the wood that undoubtedly meant James had turned to face Thomas again.   
“What’s gotten into you today, Tom?”

“I haven’t the slightest idea what-”  
“YOU are the one dragging me into the Treasury department every night for the past week, staying up til ungodly hours, making me miss my dinner and my wife just so that you can find evidence on that bastard. Not me, Thomas, YOU.”

Alexander’s heart stopped. His breath hitched in his throat. 

“James, really, I-”  
“You want to put that man out of office? Well, I finally have a new approach and NOW you want to give up?” James snorted loftily, “Could’ve done that before all the late nights, save the both of us some trouble.” 

Alexander didn’t hear the rest of what the two men were saying. He couldn’t hear any of it. All that was audible to him was the rushing of his pulse in his ears as his blood surged in rage. 

The small immigrant turned away from the door slowly, absorbing the information as the shocked denial boiled gradually into livid madness.   
Screwing up his face and breathing through a clenched jaw, he strode past the dining room table, snatching his coat off the chair as he whirled by. 

The small man shouldered the garment over his arms aggressively and, blood pumping madly, seized the knob of a small door in the room that led outside towards the kitchens.   
He yanked the door open and stormed out, striding along the dirt path with crunching footsteps. 

He couldn’t fucking believe it. He didn’t want to believe it.   
But what infuriated him the most is that he did. 

“Look, I can see why you’re agitated with me but can we seriously talk about this at work?”   
James crossed his arms and looked at Thomas like he was a sporadic teenage boy. 

He sighed, “I suppose so. You have explaining to do.”

“I know and I shall follow through when we arrive.” Thomas shifted and breathed impatiently, straining to maintain his usual composure. “Can you just wait in the carriage while I... put out the fire in the dining room? I'll be there in a moment.”

Madison regarded Thomas for another painfully long second before shrugging like it was no matter to him.  
“I’ll be waiting.” James turned and began stepping towards the entrance hall, not casting Thomas a glance over his shoulder.

The Secretary of state restrained himself until the last agonizing second that Madison was in sight before leaping to the dining room door and grappling at the handle. He pulled the entrance open with a buffeting of air to his face. 

The Virginian looked around wildly, stepping into the room in disbelief. Alexander was nowhere to be seen. Neither were his clothes. All that remained were Thomas’s nightclothes and…

“You’re fucking kidding me.” 

The slight draft in the room was justified by the sight before Thomas Jefferson: the servant door standing ajar with the outside path visible, dew glinting in the morning sunlight. He paused.

“That little bastard.” Thomas whispered, hand gently on the servant door, looking out. He caught a glimpse of green coattails rounding behind the kitchen building, and sighed in exasperated dread. 

He definitely had an explanation to deliver to Alexander, and he was going to deliver it whether he wanted it or not. Knowing the man, the answer would be the latter, but Thomas would force the stubborn prick to listen no matter what that entailed. It would not be pretty, the Virginian knew that. 

With a deep breath and an application of his stern, controlled expression despite his temper, the Secretary of State strode out into the morning dew…


	14. Think Again...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas chases Alexander outside, where the two aggressors skirmish ruthlessly. Thomas makes a new rule to make up for the one he has broken by hiding his betrayal from Alexander, and their true fight melts into the usual sexual heat that comes between the two men...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments have meant so much to me, thank you for reading! Stay tuned for the next chapters! <3

The dirt crunching underfoot was amplified in the morning silence as Thomas paced out of the house and towards the kitchen building. The path wrapped around the other side and then continued to the vegetable garden, but not back towards the road. There was no way Alexander could get very far with the path he was on, and definitely not since Thomas was after him.

He straightened his coat collar and hopped into a steady jog, rounding behind the wooden kitchen building and spotting Alex's green coat on the path ten feet in front of him.  
He sighed a deep breath and forced his voice into composure.

“Alexander Hamilton, where the hell do you think you're going?”

Alex whirled around in a flurry of fabric and planted his feet threateningly into the ground.  
The two met eyes in a silent standoff, tension tangible in the air.

“Where am I going?” He snarled, “Where are you going, Jefferson,” he spat his name coldly, “To the Treasury Department, yeah?”

He took one slow step towards the guilty party, eyes tracking the taller man's dark ones.  
“Have a little tea party with Jamesy and do some light hearted DIGGING in my fucking spending records!” Alexander's voice grew to a yell as he finished his thought.

Thomas barely had a second to comprehend what was going on before the smaller man had lunged at him, going for his face with his nails! He scratched and grappled at Thomas's face, fighting dirty as they collided with a ringing smack.

Shocked, Thomas only hesitated for a moment, flailing for Alexander's wrists before easily flinging the shorter man off.  
Alexander grunted and stumbled backwards over his momentum, crashing to the dirt ground with a sickening smack.

Thomas panted, “Stay down, Alexander. I will explain this to you if you stop wrestling me like a pathetic child-”  
His voice cracked abruptly with a roaring bark as Alex shot up from the ground and brought his fist to punch unsuspecting man's jaw with a nauseating crack. 

Thomas saw sparks as he took two steps back, hand on his face where he had been struck and blinking in pure shock.

The raging immigrant seethed. “Explain?!” He spat, “I don't want your patronization, bastard.” He took two steps towards Thomas and seized his collar,  
“You're a disgrace. You're pathetic. You think I'm embezzling government funds? Is that what you think? Well you can keep fucking digging, Jefferson. Keep fucking digging and you won't find shit because I'm good for the money.” 

He roughly let go of Thomas's collar and stepped back, arms opened in honest confession, panting. He screwed up his face.  
“And while you're at it, stay the fuck away from me.”

Thomas growled and took two strides forward, “You don't know what you're talking about, boy. I started this endeavor before any of this shit.” 

Alexander scoffed disgustedly at Thomas livid fury blazing in his eyes, “Well you can kiss this shit goodbye, because. I'm. Done.” 

Thomas's heart dropped into his stomach.  
Alexander looked up at him darkly, “I hope you go to hell, Mr. Secretary.” He growled soft and slowly.

There was an electric pause. Thomas clenched his jaw, seething through his gritting teeth.  
Alexander's eyes didn't stray for a moment as he screwed up his mouth and spat onto Thomas Jefferson's polished shoes, shooting him one last scorching glance before twisting away from him, moving to distance himself as much as possible from his enemy.

Thomas froze in paralyzed shock, slowly looking down at his shoe. Alexander's mark of disrespect tarnished the expensive leather, the insult so clear in front of him.  
The sight ignited something in him that he had only felt flares of before. This... PEASANT, this mangy tomcat of a politician had dared to offend a Jefferson: one of such high name. Thomas's honor would not be disparaged, not on his watch. Not by this rat. He clenched his fists.

Alexander had only taken a few fuming steps before he felt an explosion from behind him. The side wall of the kitchen reverberated as Thomas slammed the small man into it, composure long vanished as he tried to pin the man to the wood but lost his footing.

Still clenching tight to Alexander, the two men crashed down heavily to the ground, thudding in the dirt as the immigrant landed on top of him.

Screams of rage and primitive snarls rang in the morning air; the two aggressors wrestled and rolled, each one trying to get the advantage as they clawed and scratched at whatever they could reach. Alexander landed a couple quick hits on Thomas's belly but left himself exposed on top of Thomas, who quickly seized the opportunity.

He drove an uppercut right into Alex's throat; the livid man recoiled, sputtering and coughing violently. Thomas reached up and clutched Alex's neck with both hands, straining, and flipped Alexander onto his back with a grunt.

Still coughing, Alexander squirmed uselessly underneath the larger man who shifted up to pin Alex's arms with his knees. Two hands clenched on his throat, the trapped man growled, spit foaming at the corners of his mouth as he scowled up at Thomas. 

The dominant man panted heavily, he could feel Alex's body heaving between his legs as well.  
“I can't fucking believe you, Hamilton. You're a pitiful excuse of a man.”  
Alex tried to throw Thomas off but the taller man had him under complete control. He tightened his grip on the immigrant's throat, who coughed from the pressure.

“I'm not going to fight with your miserable ass all day; I'm too busy for your bullshit, Alexander. I'm only going to say this once so you'd better listen up now, worthless bitch.”  
Alexander could manage nothing but a seething glare that sliced into Thomas like steel. 

“Madison and I initiated this whole enterprise long before this goddamn mess started.”  
Thomas looked down to make sure that the stubborn brat was paying attention to his explanation.  
“What you don’t know is that I had already planned to call off the whole endeavor this very day. But you don’t give a fuck about asking questions before you jump to ludicrous conclusions and punch me in the goddamn face.” 

“I didn’t jump to any conclusions, BASTARD.” Alexander spat out through his strained windpipe, “I heard just what I needed to hear to know that you broke the rule that your pathetic ass made in the first place.” He wheezed.

Thomas paused and blinked, caught off guard. Unknowingly, he loosened the grip on his throat slightly. Hamilton was bound to do this; the clever man was bound to find a perfect way to justify his cause and expose the Secretary of State, turn the issue upside down and whip it back around at the Virginian. His intelligence only infuriated Thomas by another degree. 

“What?” Thomas sputtered, dreadfully noting that he had hesitated too long. Alexander picked this up in a heartbeat.

“Don’t play dumb, you useless sack of shit. You KNOW you broke your own goddamn rule, your “no bullshit” one, so I have the authority to call this entire shitshow off. Would you get OFF me-”

“Shut up and don’t fucking use that tone with me, whore. I’m making a new rule.”  
Alexander scoffed up at him incredulously.  
“You can’t just-”  
“I can do whatever I please, Mr. Secretary.” Thomas leaned in closer to the man’s panting face, taking a moment to look deep into his deep brown eyes he had become particularly familiar with. 

“This affair shall allow for only one instance of the participants breaking a rule. Only one. Now that it’s been done, we can continue without dwelling on this little fuck up. And!” Thomas continued, cutting off Alexander’s complaints of protest, “If either of us steps out of line again…” 

His steely gaze darted from Alexander’s eyes to his lips for a split second. The pinned man licked them reflexively.  
“Then this whole scandal is over. Finished. Consigned to oblivion…”

The two men’s eyes trained on each other as Thomas purred enticingly, menacingly sliding down on Alexander’s body. He dragging himself on the helpless man so that his pelvis was sitting on Alexander’s hips heavily.  
The dominant man smirked as Alexander slowly sat up, drawn thirstily to Thomas’s alluring seductions and staring nakedly at his lips, rising hungrily. Thomas smiled smugly as he watched his spell entrance the hostile little man, just like he knew it would. 

“Now how does that sound…?” he purred pleasantly, drawing closer to Alexander’s face, their bodies just barely touching.

“I hate you…” Alexander growled lowly. His heart fluttered in anticipation.  
Several beats of agonizing silence dragged on, Thomas would not be the slut to make the first move. He was much too noble for that. He knew Alex wouldn’t be able to control himself.

Unable to take it for another second, the impatient man gave in and attacked the handler’s lips, devouring him hotly as fast as his body could allow. 

Thomas surged in reciprocation, mouth wide open dirtily to ravage the smaller man’s tongue, raking his tongue over Alexander’s as far back as he could reach and then dragging it roughly back along the roof of his mouth. This earned him a deep, muffled moan from the immigrant. 

Alex suddenly needed more, much more; he rustled his hands under Thomas’s coat, trying to find a way in, and glided his palms up the smooth skin on his belly, sighing.  
The Virginian dipped his head to bite Alexander’s slightly exposed collarbone.

He whimpered, “Oh… please fuck me, sir. I’ll be good, I promise.” right into Thomas’s ear.  
Thomas held still, biting down on the desperate man’s collarbone and whispered, “You want daddy to fuck you, right here on the filthy ground?”, shaming Alexander’s dirty desires. Alex didn’t care, he was so ready…

“You disgust me.”  
The small man only whimpered and weakly grinded into Thomas in response to the slut-shaming. It was getting him off too much too quickly, and damned Thomas Jefferson was so arrogantly aware of this. 

He laughed cruelly and pulled away from Alexander, who looked up at him apprehensively, expectantly.  
Thomas smiled down at him, condescending him sweetly with his tone, “I know you would do anything to get me to fuck you here and now on the floor like the submissive whore you are,” 

He stood up from Alexander’s lap, winning him a shocked look and brushed himself off loftily, nose in the air.  
“But you don’t deserve it.” Mischief twinkled in Thomas’s cruel eyes.

Alexander huffed in needy frustration. “I hate you. I fucking hate you”  
“Mmm.” Thomas nodded mockingly down at the immigrant. “And that is why you’re begging for my cock, filthy bitch?” 

Thomas straightened his coat and pulled his cuffs into place daintily. “Check that tone with me or I’ll check it for you.” He turned and began to saunter back towards the house, towards the place where James Madison was undoubtedly waiting impatiently. 

“And Alexander?” Thomas stopped and looked over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow naughtily, “If you think you won’t be punished for this behavior… Think again.” 

He turned airily away and strolled back around the kitchen building, smirking mercilessly the entire time…


	15. Trouble in the Air

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Little did Alex and Thomas know that there was another set of ears listening to their showdown behind the Monticello house... and what happened afterwards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this one is short; another chapter is coming soon! Thanks for reading! <3

James Madison impatiently drummed his fingers on his knee and leaned forward to glance out the window of the carriage once again. Eyes scanning for movement at the front door, he detected nothing.

The exhausted man leaned back in the seat in a moment of consideration before disgruntledly sitting back up to pull open the door. With a huff, he stepped out onto the dirt   
path. 

Sighing in the morning air, he straightened his cuffs and glanced around.   
The morning was crips for June, only a few early birds were twittering in the rustling trees, the sky a cool eggshell blue.

The Representative nodded with a word of explanation to his driver to wait, and made his way tiredly towards the house once more, formal shoes crunching on the gravelly ground as he went. 

Several strikes of the knocker earned him no response from his haughty friend, and James, growing annoyed with his unusual unpunctuality, pushed the door open himself. Shaking his head and sighing in irritation at the Secretary of State’s inconsiderate behavior, he strode into the house’s entry hall, the warm air inside buffeted his face.

He was enveloped with the silence of the house, the rustling of the trees left behind.

“Thomas!” He called half-heartedly, not pausing for an answer as he walked right through the gleaming parlor and portrait collection.  
He pushed through the heavy dining room door, head still down.

“Thomas, I have waited for-” he began.   
But as he raised his head on entry and glanced around the delicate room, it was unmistakable that something was amiss.  
The blonde man furrowed his brows, perplexed.  
His shoes clunked on the wood as he took another slow step into the space. One glance at the marble-mantled hearth told him that there had, in fact, never been a fire burning in its belly since at least three days ago. 

Squatting in front of it with a grunt, he observed with a careful, calculative eye. Old ashes crumbled within the barren heart of the fireplace, dry and vacant from days of dormancy.  
“Interesting…”   
He noted, pulling himself up from the squat with a huff.

Thomas had, without question, lied to him about his whereabouts. This was beyond unusual for him, it baffled James. The man was on-time and eloquent, he wasn’t this flaky and scattered Thomas that James had been witnessing this morning. He shook his head, not quite believing this behavior.

Suddenly, a cool ribbon of air kissed his face and shook him back to the moment. He took a short whiff, crisp scents of grass and dew were weaved within the draft, subconsciously pulling James’s attention towards its origin.  
Scanning the objects of the room, he pinpointed the plain, undecorated servant door on the left side. Clearing his throat slightly he skirted the long table towards it, somehow feeling like he was trespassing guiltily on another man’s estate.

Shrugging aside his discomfort, he approached the door and stopped in front of it, running his fingers down its side until they found the opening where it was undoubtedly left ajar. Guiltily, like an intruder, he pulled it open just enough for his head to peek out. 

His earls were encircled with the morning sounds once again, the breeze, the disant twittering, and…

“Know…. Bullshit… OFF me.” 

James almost recoiled at the unexpected sound. Voices? Were there voices? Surely not probable.  
He strained his ears for the supposed speaking of the person outside.

A couple more words and his heart leaped suspiciously when he realized that the articulation was most definitely not Thomas Jefferson. Not at all. The voice was higher pitched with no accent thickening the words like they were dripping in saturated honey. He shifted, somehow the itching discomfort of guilt heightened as he continued to listen. 

“... can’t just-”  
“I… whatever I please… Mr. Secretary.” 

There was Thomas Jefferson; his familiar low register voice carried less sharply than the first man and drawled like saccharine molasses. But... "Mr. Secretary" ? James Madison’s heart began to quicken its pace, eager to hear more; he pressed further outside. Mr. Secretary… It couldn’t be. There was no chance. Was there?

“Affair… without dwelling… scandal is over.”   
“I hate you.” 

The Representative’s head swirled with confusion, his thoughts screaming for more answers, pleading for him to get closer to the conversation between his fellow politician and… another man. He forced them to cease their distracting banter and strained further to hear.

The voices trailed off gradually and discontinued into a combination of muffled clips of panting and wet sounds. James held his breath. A whimper rang through the morning silence. 

“Fuck you right here… ground?” The lower voice growled softly, barely audible to James’s ear. 

But he had heard enough; the inexplicable guilt rising steadily in his chest had bubbled into his throat like boiling water; he couldn’t listen to any more, he wouldn’t. 

His head retreated, as if burned, back into the house and he clicked the door shut as quickly and quietly as possible. Eyes wide in shock, breath short and clipped. 

Alone in the dining room, he stood impossibly still in the carpeted silence of indoors. The silence seemed deafening after what he had just heard on the other side of that little door. Moments passed as he processed in the quiet, still house. 

Turning away from it and stiffly making his way elegantly through the halls and out the door, his storming mind did not match his proper facade that he had painted on.   
He was absolutely, cluelessly baffled as to what he had just witnessed.   
Trying to put together the whole scene was impossible, but James was a calculative man, he reminded himself. He knew the facts. 

Thomas Jefferson was with someone outside the house that morning. A man. 

Thomas Jefferson was doing very... familiar things with the person he was talking to. A man. 

And James Madison was not going to say anything about it. Nothing. Not a word.   
Because for him, it was out of the question. Unthinkable. Inconceivable to say something, to Thomas, to anyone. 

He knew that Thomas Jefferson was involving himself in something mysterious and unsung, sinister.

And he knew that he himself was hiding a dangerous secret as well…


	16. Or Do I?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John Laurens confronts Alexander about his suspicion, forcing the man to evade the truth he so quickly sniffed out. Later that night, Alexander discovers something about himself and Thomas after a horrible dream...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for waiting! If you're looking forward to some SMUT! Next chapter is the place for you! :)

“Coming!”   
Alexander thudded down the stairs, buttoning the last two clasps of his coat hurriedly and craning for a view out of the windows onto the porch. He had been expecting a letter from Washington all morning and it had been awfully belated for his taste. 

“Ah, thank you.”  
Alexander sighed as he held open the door and extended his hand for the letter, presidential seal adorning the lip patriotically.   
He extracted it in an entitled manner and began to back into the house when the young, scruffy messenger coughed slightly. Alexander looked back at him questioningly for a moment, then rolled his eyes. 

“Well, if you’re so satisfied with your work, bud.” Alex reached into his pocket and flicked him a coin smoothly. It glinted in the sunlight for a moment before the messenger caught it with one hand, slightly caught off guard. 

Young Alex, amused with the boy, laughed through his nose and closed the door, turning back into the house. His attention shifted to the document in his hand.

The sound of crackling paper followed Alexander to his office as his eyes scanned the letter the entire time, slowly strolling as he read and meandered towards his workspace.  
By the time he had made his way there he knew he still didn’t have the slightest clue what the topic of the Cabinet meeting in two days would be, all thanks to the entire first page being one long scolding from the President. 

Alexander couldn’t help but grin at the ridiculous length of it.  
Rounding his desk, eyes still on the paper he stopped to read further, trying not to snicker at the contents. Alexander was used to their letters beginning with this sort of lecture, having always been a buck-wild kid who never knew when to quit talking. So nowadays he just saw these sections as comedic relief to kick off the serious matters.

Finishing the page’s last, “I am disappointed but not surprised, Secretary Hamilton,” Alexander lowered into his chair, scooting it close to the desk and extracting a quill. Placing an ink bottle next to new parchment perfectionistically, the young Treasurer hovered his quill eagerly over the sheet, reading through the assignment for his Cabinet argument. 

Of course.  
He was not surprised by the topic, it was to be expected for, most likely, the entire rest of the summer.

His very own financial plan for the nation would be the matter of discussion in two days. It didn’t take a genius like Alexander to figure out what that meant; it would be Hamilton versus Jefferson in full blown debate the entire day. The Cabinet would be spectators as the Secretaries played Capulet and Montague.

“Perfect.” Alexander sighed, dipping his quill in ink. “Fucking Jefferson…” He trailed off as he began writing meticulously. 

His words started in a trickle but rapidly rushed into a flood in less than minutes as his ideas sculpted full fledged arguments.   
There was nothing to hear but the furious scratching of quill on parchment in the Hamilton household. A frequent sound that meant the immigrant was doing what he did best; doing what he did the most. 

An hour, three parchment sheets, and an ink bottle later, Alexander was still writing restlessly when a rough, informal knocking rang through the house. Alex stopped for no more than three seconds to consider irritatedly before returning himself back to the paper to continue his idea. Whoever was at the door could fuck themselves or come back later if it was so important. He was busy and it was a workday. 

The knock sounded again, louder and more persistent this time. Alex’s eyes shot up from the paper in immediate annoyance; could anyone be more of an inconvenience around here?   
“Fuck off!” Alexander called loud enough so that it could be heard through the walls of the house. 

The response was a knocking even louder and faster, much too insufferable to ignore this time.   
Alexander groaned dramatically, frustrated, and rolled his head back in inconvenienced aggravation.   
“Shut the hell up, I’m coming!” He hollered, smacking the quill down onto the desk and yanking his chair back, grumbling incessantly. Bastard. 

He stormed around the corner to the doorway, not bothering to primp himself up, and flung it open.   
A familiar figure stood in front of ruffled Alexander with their, short, scruffy stature and signature long brown ponytail. 

“John?” Alex sputtered crossly.   
“No, the King of England.” 

Alex was always glad to see his closest friend, but he was in no place to entertain, certainly not today.

“John, as my best friend you’ll understand I mean this in the kindest way. Piss off, would you?”  
“Glad to see you too.” John snorted and brushed aside Alex’s demand as he pushed by the smaller man into the threshold of the house. 

“Come right on in.” Alexander stepped aside exaggeratedly. John strolled to the stair banister and turned curtly to Alex as he clicked the door shut, leaving the two in silence for a few moments. They looked at each other, then the walls. Alexander coughed.

The impatient man broke the silence, “any particular reason for this lovely visit or just making your rounds?” 

John laughed lightly through his nose and nodded down at Alex from his place by the stairs. He sighed and shifted.   
“For real, man, do you want me to be straight-up?”   
“More than anything.” Alexander replied. 

John looked down at the floor and coughed awkwardly. His eyes rejoined with Alexander’s as he straightened his cravat and spoke. 

“I want to know what’s up with you, Alexander.” 

Alex’s heart swooped into his stomach with icy dread.   
“What?” He feigned cluelessness. 

“Alex I’ve known you for too long to tell when you’re playing dumb. You’re terrible at it.”  
“Frankly, I take that as a compliment.”   
“Don’t distract me, Ham.” John persisted, not diverting for Alexander’s words.

Laurens looked at him deeply in the eyes for the first time that day and Alex immediately knew what he was going to bring to the table.

“That smell, Alexander. We both knew it. I know that you knew that I knew it.” Alex gulped, eyes flitting to the floor.  
“Someone else’s perfume, and probably-- no- DEFINITELY cum.” John continued his one sided interrogation, narrowing his eyes as Alexander flushed red, “Where’ve you been going, Alexander; I’m not stupid. You might as well tell me here and now because I already know.” 

Alex sputtered in outrage; his best friend was, of course, right and Alex sure as hell knew it. It irked him beyond compare.  
“I haven’t been going anywhere, John!” he strained.  
“Where were you last night.”   
“Nowhere- here- I was here, this is ridic-”  
“You’re lying, Alex.” 

He screwed up his face in pure offense, shocked at the accusation.  
“Why would you even insinuate-”  
“Last night, Alexander. After the protest. I came by to talk to you about this very subject. But…” John slipped his hand off the banister and into his pocket, looking down on the panicking immigrant, “You didn’t answer. The house was dark. Silent.” John took one step closer to Alex, trying to meet his stubborn eyes,

“You weren’t here.”

“I was asleep!” Alex spat, his friend slowly getting the best of him, bringing him to an alarmed boil. 

John nodded sarcastically, pursing his lips condescendingly, “Mmmhm. Okay, Alex, wanna guess what time I stopped by?”   
Alex’s stomach lurched. Shit… why oh why hadn’t he asked this first? Now he was in deep trouble and he knew it. 

“Uh, not really.” Alex responded, shifting, knowing full and well that his friend had defeated him. His last defence came down and he accepted that he would have to tell him something. No fucking way he’d say anything about Thomas. But something…

“Seven forty-five. I knocked on your door at seven forty-five. I know damn well your ass doesn’t stop writing until the sun comes right back around; so who are you shitting, Alexander? Not me.”   
John was close to him like a normal conversation now, eyes softening in a more gentle approach to extract his answer. “Just tell the truth, man.”

“I was having an affair.” Alexander burst out emphatically; it took the effect he’d been hoping for on John. He faked distress and guilt, enough so that it would truly seem like he wasn’t lying anymore, that John had cracked him.  
“I’m having an affair; it started this summer when she cornered me and extorted me for money. But I ended it, I couldn’t take anymore of the shame, John, I couldn’t.” He paused for a dramatic moment, looking passionately into his companion’s eyes, “So that’s it. There it is.” 

There was a pause and John blew air out through his lips slowly, puffing his cheeks and processing what he had been told; he ran a hand over his hair. Alexander didn’t care about the embarrassment; his evasion of the real story was working like a charm. 

“Shit Alexander.” John breathed, shaking his head incredulously, “I knew you were a horny little bastard but this is a new level for you.”  
“I know.” Alex squeezed his eyes shut at the floor, feigning guilt, “You won’t tell anyone, Laurens?” he strained, “I trusted you enough to tell you, I can trust you enough not to tell anyone about this scandal.” 

John walked slowly to the door, still in a phase of disbelief.   
“Of course, I’m not gonna tell anyone, Ham. You’re the closest friend I’ve got.” 

Alex moved aside, gloomily twisting open the doorknob for John to depart.  
“I’m sorry, man.” he sighed, catching one last look in his buddy’s eyes, “I really am going to fix things right back to normal.” 

John cracked a small smile and grasped Alex’s shoulder playfully, “I know you will, man. I know you will.” He nodded, shaking the smaller man slightly before turning away.   
“And Alex, if I happen to stop by tonight for no apparent reason, where will you be?”   
John smirked over his shoulder stepping down the stairs with three clunks. Alex forced a grin. 

“Right here. Home sweet home.” John strolled off of Alex’s property and around the corner out of sight… 

**

Bullshit, Alexander thought as he blew out the candle and shimmied down into the sheets. Covers rustling, he settled himself into bed, trying to get comfortable in his irritated annoyance.  
Finally, there was a moment of stillness before he restlessly turned over to the other side once more.

Now, what he really needed was a good fucking, a solid pounding until he was too exhausted to possibly keep his eyes open. God, how he’d love to be nailed against a headboard right now… but John’s little warning had been too risky to ignore, far too risky. He wasn't going anywhere.

So there laid Alexander, alone in his huge bed hopelessly horny. What would Thomas do if he was with him right now… He’d pin him with his knees, whisper lethally quiet that Alexander wasn’t allowed to make a sound..

Stop. Alex groaned and rolled to the other side, tossing the sheets around. If he aroused himself anymore he’d just be more fucking miserable.  
He’d usually just sit up and get the job done himself, but something about doing that at the moment just felt… wrong. It felt like something was missing, out of place, and Alex knew exactly what it was but there was no way in hell that he would admit it to himself. 

The restless immigrant forced his mind to other places, any other place. But no matter what the hell he thought of it would always meander right back to Thomas jefferson. Stupid Thomas fucking Jefferson.  
He contemplated the garden he was building. Who else had a magnificent garden? Jefferson.   
He scrutinized the upcoming Cabinet meeting. Who else would be the main attraction at the meeting? Jefferson. Even when he wasn’t around the bastard was impossibly frustrating. Impossible to ignore. Fucking Jefferson.

Alex huffed, disgruntled. This would be a long night. 

**

The sticky, humid air slicked Alex’s dirty hair to his neck.  
He sweat profusely onto the rough straw bed, skin dripping and itching from raging fever and being tightly packed onto the surface. The hut was dim and musty; the only sound was the shallow, ragged breathing off two weak Caribbeans, muffled in the dark, humid space. 

Alex’s eyes were closed. He could only see blurry darkness as he shivered, freezing despite the sticky heat, despite being pressed so closely to another. 

Alexander gained enough energy to cough rawly, the wretched sound filling the filthy cabin. The other figure weakly gripped his frail body as he hacked and then went silent once more, too exhausted to continue. 

He shivered.   
“I’m so cold.” He managed weakly, “So cold… mom.” 

There was a long pause.  
The arms around him gripped harder for a moment. Just for a moment.   
In that one grasp, there were a thousand words. An apology. A cry. An act of love… one last time.

And then it went limp. 

The breathing against Alex’s body ceaed. There was silence, stillness. 

He panicked, jagged breathing accelerating.   
He croaked in exhaustion, “Mom?” There was no response.  
He whimpered weakly and pressed closer, begging for an answer. He couldn’t manage to lift his head. He saw spots.  
His voice cracked, “Mom!” 

Alexander lurched up in bed, eyes shooting open in panic.

He heaved in short, sharp gasps, struggling for air as his heart-rate surpassed what his lungs could keep up with. Wildly looking around, he remembered where he truly was. He tried to assure himself that he was at home. He was safe...

But panicked sweat slicked his hair down and deep breaths seemed impossible; he flopped in weak exhaustion back onto his pillow, never feeling more despondent.

“Shit...” He whispered quietly, wiping his wet forehead with the back of his hand, then touching his face to find it wet too.  
He immediately swiped the tears away with his hand messily, quick to deny that they were even there in the first place. The little man sniffed curtly and tried to relax his tense muscles once again, forcing deep breaths through his body.

After a few minutes of sniffles and silence, he reluctantly closed his eyes once again, begging for gentle sleep, begging for safety.

A silent tear rolled down the side of his face and into his hair. Along with it came a faint whispering in the back of his mind. A little voice that was giving its all to tell him something that a part of him already knew.

He wanted comfort, he wanted relief, he wanted the ability to go back to sleep and not miss his mother anymore. He wanted someone to hold him firmly and tenderly at the same time, someone to curl around him to keep the cold away.  
He wanted someone.

He wanted Thomas.  
He wanted Thomas with him right then.

Alexander sniffed and rolled over to his side, burying himself in the blanket and staring off into nothing. He let the voice have one moment of advocation. One moment to fully embody itself.  
And then the small immigrant snuffed it out without a second thought.

Consigned it to the impenetrable silence it had lived in before. That is where the thought belonged, in the back of his mind where it hardly even existed enough to be true.

He didn't want Thomas. He didn't need Thomas. He was a powerful man who wielded noble importance.

“And yet...”

He thought as he closed his eyes once again...


	17. Play Nice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alexander goes to the Jefferson manor on Thomas's command right after his daily meetings. Their evening goes pleasantly until they start a conflict about work and Alex gets himself into trouble with the dominant Virginian...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get ready for some SMUT! Thank you for reading, your support means the world! <3

Alex boredly looked over the shoulder of the rotund man across from him at the grandfather clock. Three more minutes of this mind-numbing bullshit. He inaudibly exhaled and tapped his fingers on his leg under the desk, forcing his eyes to return to the pompous gentlemen as he spoke, chin jiggling.

His voice was almost impossibly dull and dry; everything was a monotoned whisper that made Alex want to rip his hair out. Three minutes. 

The man paused as if he had said something important and Alex forced a strained smile at his baby-round face, scribbling something down onto his paper. What had he written? Who the hell knew. What was this man saying? Same response. 

It’s not that Alexander wasn’t listening; in fact, he was far from ignoring this gentleman who was the governor of Massachusetts. But he had already pinpointed the issue, analyzed its every detail, and formulated a solution within the first ten minutes of this dreadful meeting.  
He had scribbled furiously nearly three sheets of parchment for an outline of a compromise plan but what did that matter? The meeting was supposed to be an hour and a half, and so shall it be. 

“....I trust that matter shall be resolved overseas… Oh my, would you look at the time, nearly four o clock. How it flies!”  
The old man wheezed to Alexander’s greatest delight, setting his papers down onto his crossed legs 

Alex stretched an exasperated grin and sat back in his seat, folding his hands in his lap, “Indeed it does, sir.”   
The old man smiled at him and stood stiffly from his chair, collecting his papers into his case while rasping to the young Treasurer, “We meet again this following week if I am correct?”  
“That you are, sir. A plan will be most carefully drafted at my hand, and most wisely approved at yours. Thank you for your time, Mr. Governor, and I assure you that the matter will be resolved with our methodical reasoning.”   
Alexander assured the man eloquently, earning himself a satisfied nod from the governor as he stood up and looked at the immigrant admiringly. 

“Secretary Hamilton,” he breathed, shaking his head, “I you truly are the young genius this country direly needs.” 

Alexander smirked, suddenly wishing achingly that Thomas was in the room too so that he could mock the proud little prick.

“I humbly accept your compliment with honored gratitude, Mr. Governor. I will see you again promptly, and thank you once more for your time.”   
The old man backed out of the room appreciatively. 

As soon as he was sure he was gone, Alexander slumped down in his seat, collapsing dramatically with an enormous sigh.   
“Jesus fuck me.” He groaned, rubbing his eyes exasperatedly in relief that his third and last meeting of the day was finally concluded. 

There was a slight cough from the door, “Uh, Secretary Hamilton, sir?”

Alex acknowledged the quiet address offhandedly, “Uh huh.” He grunted, dragging his hands off his face and sighing.  
“It’s the messenger, sir. I have a letter for you, sir.”

Alex had sat back up with a low huff and bent over his papers, not diverting any attention to the messenger boy as he scribbled.   
“I’m done for the day. Tell whoever sent it that they can eat a dick, Hamilton’s out.” 

The boy shifted uncomfortably in his place in the threshold as if he was about to speak. There was a very long pause until Alex had finished writing and looked up from his work without straightening up. 

“Why are you still here?” he snipped irritably. The deliverer jumped a bit.  
“Oh- Sorry- sorry, sir, it’s just that the sender of this message made it clear that it was urgent.”  
“Who send it?”  
“The Jefferson household, sir.” 

Alexander’s breath caught in his throat giddily; he swallowed, trying to mask the anxious thrill in his gut and sat up in his chair. 

He looked at the boy cooly.   
“You have permission to enter.”   
Within a couple seconds, the deliver had scurried in and out, handing the short-tempered Treasurer the letter and high-tailing it out of there. 

Alex turned it over in his hands, observed the meticulous details of scarlet seal carefully. Atop the shield shape was a lion’s head, within the shield three leopards head above a cross-hatched pattern. A banner of latin words ran along the bottom. 

“Ab eo libertas a quo spiritus…” Alexander whispered to himself and tore open the paper eagerly. He unfolded the letter inside.   
The same impeccable handwriting adorned the parchment; Alexander could almost smell the expensive ink.

“Alexander,  
As soon as you finish your last meeting, I expect you at the Jefferson manor by seven. Bring with you any work you need to do because you will not get home until tomorrow, don’t try to negotiate that.  
Don’t be late.

Mr. Thomas Jefferson  
Secretary of State”

Alexander snorted out loud and rolled his eyes, setting the letter in the bottommost drawer of his desk and kicking it closed with his foot. That pompous egomaniac was such a fucking pain in the ass. He really did believe he was entitled to everything, including Alexander. 

The immigrant flexed his jaw while putting his quills away; God, he wanted to give that bastard a good ass-kicking one day.   
But today, whether he wanted to or not, he was undoubtedly heading to the Jefferson manor. Unquestionably.   
Thomas had promised him a punishment the previous day; he wouldn’t let the spoiled Virginian go back on his word.

And what was that rule they made about toys?   
Ah yes, Alexander smirked devilishly. 

Thomas was in charge of that one. 

***

Alexander strolled up to Thomas’s towering double doors with a spring in his step. The summer evening was turning out to be rather warm so the Caribbean man was peacefully content and hungry. Definitely hungry. 

Birds and crickets sang harmoniously in the ancient trees of the estate and the sunset was strikingly spectacular owing to the storm clouds in the distance. Alexander had showed up at the golden hour of seven forty-five but he didn’t really care; Thomas’s aristocratic ass could wait for forty-five minutes more, it wasn’t Alex’s damn problem. 

He knocked obnoxiously on the door a few times and waited, glancing about at his scenic surroundings. Contrary to two days ago, he heard the vibration of footsteps within the house almost immediately. A smile bubbled up to his face as they drew closer; he stepped back a bit to leave room for Thomas. 

The double doors swung open on oiled hinges and revealed Thomas Jefferson standing tall and resolute in the archway. He was as entitled and composed as ever, blue coat basically shining in the light and hair combed back infuriatingly neatly.  
His brown eyes found Alex’s in a heartbeat, his face annoyed and inconvenienced, eyebrows knitted together.

Alex stared up at the tall man, watching as his irritated glower travelled from Alex to a spot behind him and back. He sighed. 

“Alexander again with the grass?”  
The immigrant shrugged, “Big deal, it’s just a big plant.”   
“That ‘big plant’ costs more than your existence.”

Alex scoffed,“No the fuck it does not. It’s literally grass.”   
“What would you know about proper lawn maintenance, neanderthal?”  
“Have you seen my lawn?”  
“Unfortunately.”   
“Hey, I don’t do a thing to it and it does just fine.”

Thomas rolled his eyes, “I don’t give a fuck about your grass, Alexander. But MINE is on your shoes and I won’t have you tramping about my house trailing the whole yard with you.”  
“It’s like three pieces.”  
“Take them off.”   
“You’re appallingly spoiled, you know that?”   
“Off.” 

Alexander groaned as Thomas made him take off his shoes and leave them out on the porch, supervising snottily and slapping his ass as he walked past him into the house. That move won Thomas a pained yelp and propelled the little man into the entry hall. 

Alexander stopped after a few skips into the hall he had been in only two days ago, face lighting up.  
“Ooh, I smell food.” He turned around to face Thomas excitedly. 

“Incredibly observant of you.” Thomas drawled boredly, daintily removing his coat by the door to hang it on the coat rack. 

Alex’s mouth watered impatiently. “I’m going to start eating, meet you in there.”   
“Alexander Hamilton, turn your ass right back around.” 

Alex pivoted on one heel to face the proper man once again.   
“What?” 

“We’re going to have dinner together and work together and you’re going to do it properly or I’ll have your ass.”   
“Is that a threat or an invitation?” Alex snickered immaturely.   
Thomas rolled his eyes and sighed, his powerful sides pressing against his fitted waistcoat that, Alexander would admit, deliciously displayed his form.   
“Come.”

Alexander grumpily walked towards Thomas, who gracefully stripped him of his coat and hung it next to his.   
“That wasn’t so damn hard, was it?”  
“Gee Jeffs, don’t undress me all at once.” Alexander mocked sarcastically.

They began to move further into the house.  
“Don’t call me that.” Thomas warned again as they meandered into the dining room side by side, Alexander’s shoeless feet padding on the floor.

He noted that he was even shorter than Thomas now than he usually was, something he didn’t think was possible. The taller acknowledged the huge height difference as well with a sideways glance and cold smirk. Alexander scowled back his arrogant host. 

Now, Thomas had prepared meals for Alexander before, but that was with limited resources and time. The dinner that Thomas had prepared tonight was with full anticipation and supplies, and, God, was it nothing like Alexander had ever seen before...

A full French table spread before the two men, plates upon platters of different dishes crowded the table in golden heaps, the smell intoxicating the hungry little man. He looked up at Thomas ecstatically. 

Of course, the Virginian didn’t let the tardy Treasurer off easy  
(“Yes, well, it wouldn’t be cold if your ass had decided to turn up when I fucking told you to.”), and also made Alexander try every different dish, no matter how foreign  
(“W-what the FUCK is this… UGH- Thomas!”   
“My God, Alexander, anyone who’s main food source isn’t semen would fucking realize that they’re eating the highest class pissaladière you’ll ever touch.”  
“High class my ass!”  
“Don’t you dare spit it into that napkin, you barbarian... Alexander!”)

By the time all the plates were cleared, Alex’s stomach was bulging from fullness, his insides buzzed warmly as he gazed lazily over at Thomas. The Virginian gaped at him.

“Alexander, I knew you could eat a fuckton, but not twice your bodyweight.” he sneered.  
“Oh, go fuck yourself, rich boy.” Alex puffed, leaning back to stretch his swollen belly. 

Thomas sighed regally and stood, sliding back his chair and placing his napkin neatly folded on the seat-back. 

“I’m getting to work. Go get your briefcase and you can work anywhere except my study; I don’t want your greasy fingers all over my things.”   
Alexander kicked him under the table, Thomas kicked him back, harder. They scowled at each other.

“Where are you working?”  
“In my library.”  
“Then library it is.” Alex tossed his wrinkled napkin crudely on the table, brown eyes tracking Thomas’s.

“I’m sorry, did I say library, I meant backwoods behind the house.” Alexander had already stood stiffly and strolled by Thomas, looking over his shoulder cheekily.   
“Alexander,” Thomas growled testily, skirting the table and striding to catch the pest.   
In three quick steps he snagged Alexander by the waistband and yanked him around fussily.

“Let go of me, dickhead.” Alexander thrashed but Thomas held him cooly with an iron grip, stilling him with his firm glare.   
Thomas collectedly tucked a lock of his hair back behind his ear before burning back into Alex.

“You’re staying away from me while I work, is that perfectly clear?” He growled.  
Alexander moved his face closer to Thomas’s angrily. “Why?” 

“Why?” Thomas spat incedulously, “Why? Are you slow as shit, Hamilton? I don’t want you reading over my shoulder like a fucking double agent.”

The immigrant realized. “Oh so this is about work now?” he jeered. 

“Yes, this is about work, how could this not be about work? We have a fucking cabinet meeting tomorrow and you think I’d let you eyeball my counterarguments?”

“Or hey, Thomas, maybe I don’t want to sit alone in this empty-ass house really fucking far from the asshole who’s supposed to be making this fun.”

“Bullshit”

“No, your reasoning is bullshit, as per usual.” Alex took a step back. 

Thomas seethed, shocked at Alex’s disrespect. “Excuse me?” He spat. 

“You don’t give a fuck about if I see your work,” Alex smirked for dramatic effect, “you just think I’ll distract you.”   
There was a pause. 

Thomas took an aggressive step towards the little nuisance, the lock of his brown hair falling again as his eyes burned with fury; he seized little Alex by the shoulders of his waistcoat.   
“Don’t you DARE talk to me in that manner you filthy little rat.” He sneered down at Alexander, “Unlike you, some of us can control our fucking dicks like the adults we are. God, I ought to beat some common sense into your dirty ass.” 

Alexander glared up and met Thomas’s raging eyes dangerously,   
“Talking about control are you? I’m not the one who looks like he wants to slam me into a wall and fuck me senseless.” He breathed lividly, “Now am I?” Alex challenged Thomas riskily, knowing he was playing a dangerous game.

The following beats of unmoving silence between them was charged with electric tension. They sized each other up, each one waiting for the other aggressor to make a move as they breathed livid breaths. 

Agonizing seconds passed; Alex could tell Thomas wasn’t playing around anymore; his eyes blazed with icy danger, railing against Alexander’s gaze with dark warning of what was to come. 

The Virginian’s eyes didn’t break from his enemy’s. He ever so slowly let go of Alexander and stood tall, gradually straightening himself with careful, cold dignity.  
Alex looked on in wary anticipation; he knew he had fucked up and done himself in for some serious trouble.  
Shit.

“Go to my bedroom, Alexander.” He whispered, lethally calmly. His arctic gaze cooly slashing into the Treasurer. 

Alex opened his mouth to retort, but Thomas cut him off threateningly, “Go to my bedroom... Now.” He whispered.


	18. Chains and Leather

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas makes a desperate Alexander wait for his punishment, displaying to him one of the new toys he got for him...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get ready for SMUT! Thank you all so much for your support! <3

Alex sat anxiously on the corner of the bed, bouncing one foot in anticipation. He’d been waiting for nearly two minutes after Thomas had ordered him to his bedroom, and he hadn’t seen him since. Alexander looked up at the door once more and deduced nothing, how long would that bastard make him wait? 

It was so typical of Thomas to leave Alexander there like he deserved to wait in desperation; he wouldn’t be surprised if Thomas made him sit there all night, a vigil of shame. Arrogant fucker, Alex thought angrily.

His burning thoughts about Thomas came to an abrupt halt as he paused, barely detecting faint footsteps vibrating the floor.   
His heart skipped an anxious beat and he forced a deep breath as the steps got louder and louder approaching the door.   
He sat up as tall as he could on the bed, bravely trying to look bigger to challenge the dominant man; he readied himself for the Virginian’s arrival. 

The brass knob turned and the door was flung open more violently than Alex would have anticipated; the man on the bed jolted, startled.

Thomas looked, of course, just as proper as usual, but there was a dangerous fire in his movements as he slammed the door behind him, the sound ringing through the house. Alexander gulped in thrilled fear as he carefully met his handlers eyes. They were blazing with frozen fire and bit into him ruthlessly.

Alex’s breath hitched suddenly. His heart rate accelerated with adrenaline.

“What’s that?” He demanded boldly at Thomas, staring inquisitively at what he had just noticed…   
Dangling from Thomas’s right hand, slightly swaying, there was a tangle of chains and definitely expensive black leather. Thomas looked at the contents of his hand and back at Alexander.

“Did I fucking give you permission to speak?” He spat. “And get off my bed, you dégoûtant, petite garce coquine. Filthy slut.” He sneered. 

Alex haughtily did as he was told, hiding the fact that Thomas’s French was getting him off far too quickly, as heat pooled in his belly. Puffing his chest and lengthening his spine, he stood tall. Thomas stared on coldly. 

“On your knees.” He ordered in a low tone, leaving no room for disobedience.  
Alexander slowly lowered himself to the floor, fuming silently at the powerful Virginian and keeping eye contact the whole way. Thomas twitched his eyebrows evilly at the sight of Alex submitting to his every word. Alex growled.

“Good boy,” He took a step and began to saunter slowly, leisurely towards the kneeling man while looking down on him degradingly,  
“These are the outcome of that little rule you made, Alexander.” He jingled the metal chains menacingly, laughing slightly at Alex’s reaction, “intrigued, are we?” he stopped in front of the boy and kneeled down close to his level, chains clinking on the floor.

Alexander could feel Thomas’s breath on his face as he hovered close to him, suddenly seizing his chin roughly with his one hand. The fingers digging into his cheeks caused the small man to snarl primitively as Thomas forced Alexander’s gaze to look up at his. He eyed his face with icy authority, control radiating from his grip as Alexander glowered lividly back.   
“Your desperation disgusts me.” Thomas whispered dangerously slow. 

Alexander knew that his words were everything but the truth and wanted to retort rudely back against his slut-shaming. But he kept his mouth shut against his every will because he was starving for Thomas’s punishment; he craved whatever was in Thomas’s hand, and he wanted it now.

The taller man let go of his face and slowly stood up elegantly, still glowering down at the kneeling Alexander. The immigrant followed his movements with his head, anticipating what was to be done with him next; it was becoming harder and harder to hold down his urgent lust for Thomas and the devilish man knew that in a heartbeat. 

He laughed mockingly through his nose as he set the jingling chains and leather onto the bed that they were so close to and paused for a moment, observing the neat pile with calculative consideration. His hand hovered for a moment above the heap before carefully selecting an item and turning his head down towards Alexander.

“Strip. Now.” 

Alexander nearly sprang to tear his clothes off and discard them as far from him on the floor as possible; they would be far less than useless whilst he was with the Secretary of State. Thomas watched his struggle in threatening impatience, his short temper showing through as he tapped his foot menacingly. 

As soon as Alexander had returned, freezing, back to a submissive position on his knees, Thomas threaded his powerful fingers through his hair and jerked him up forcibly. Alexander squealed noisily at the pain.

“Shut up and get on the bed, facing me.” Thomas barked roughly at Alex, who bucked his head rebelliously against his grip.   
This smart move earned him a crisp slap on the cheek from the ruthless man who continued to pull him up to the bed until he was facing Thomas, a leg on either side of the dominant man, eyes watering furiously. 

Alexander looked up into his fuming face for several moments of powerful sexual tension. Thomas only stared back coldly.

“I’m sick of your games, Alexander.” He growled, glaring at Alex and running only his fingertips up his thighs. The defenseless man tried not whimper at the soft threat and erotic feeling of Thomas’s gentle nails on his skin.

Thomas hummed in satisfaction at his helpless reaction and abruptly changed course, grasping a thigh with each hand and kneading them roughly,  
“If you want to play with daddy’s new presents you need to fucking behave yourself.” 

Alexander moaned lowly and squirmed to get as close to Thomas as possible, ignited by his cruel behavior.   
“I promise, daddy, I promise…” He breathed, leaning in so desperately close that their hot breathing intermingled erotically.

Thomas exhaled, smirking wickedly, and slowly reached out to gently stroke Alex’s throat with the back of two fingers. Alexander gulped fearfully as the dangerous touch that brushed his delicate skin; Thomas watched his reaction in hunger.

“Do you want to see your new toys?” He purred, alluring the man with sweet utterances.  
Alex quickly nodded in response to his generous offer, taking it now because he knew damn well he would not be allowed to ask for it later.

“Yes please.” He whispered, trying to look innocent for Thomas. 

“Mmm.” Thomas nodded, humming menacingly. The dominant man wrapped his hand around the back of Alex’s head and placed his thumb on the soft part of Alexander’s throat, pressing down on the sensitive area. His face darkened.

“Think we can act sweet and feign innocence, do we?”   
He pressed harder, making Alex squeal in pain. “Think we can get a lesser punishment?”   
Alex tried to shake his head.

Thomas laughed through his nose, and leaned in close to Alex’s body  
, “No…” he whispered in the small man’s ear, “Because you deserve to be punished. You know that.” he pouted condescendingly to Alex, degrading him perfectly. 

Alex whimpered in submission, so, so ready for Thomas to do what he wanted with him, anything he pleased; he just wanted it now; that was his only wish. He wanted it now. 

Thomas released the painful pressure and, as Alex coughed and gasped sharply, reached beside them on the bed.   
Without letting the little man view it, Thomas lifted the item that he was holding earlier from the sheets and jangled it close to Alex’s head, twitching his eyebrows as Alex flinched slightly.  
He kept careful eye contact with his slut’s smoldering gaze as he dragged the leather across the back of Alexander’s neck, too slow to not be cruel, and began to wriggle it around the front and tighten the thing so that it was snugly against the needy man’s skin. 

Alexander wasn’t stupid, not even close. He calculated quickly as the cold leather wrapped around his throat, buckle jingling. After three seconds of Thomas fitting him into this particular item he realized with a shot of thrill through his gut what it was. 

It was a collar. 

Thomas let go as he finished, stepping back to admire the specimen as if it was another painting in his extensive collection.   
With a knuckle to his mouth and the other arm crossed along his chest, he ravaged the sight in starvation.

“Shit…” he whispered orgasmically, shaking head slightly at the immigrant.   
Alex could tell he was getting hard; he knew it, but he didn’t dare to look and suffer the consequences. 

“Up.” Thomas commanded out of the blue, jolting Alexander from his stillness, “Into the bathroom.” 

“What?” the collared man spat, “You’re not going to fuck me?” 

Thomas stepped forward and seized Alex roughly by the front of the collar, “Not with that attitude, I fucking won’t.”   
He jerked the smaller man up from his sitting position ferociously and yanked him towards the bathroom, the immigrant stumbling along across the cold wood floor.

As soon a they had tumbled through the threshold, Thomas fussily manipulated Alex so that he was facing the mirror, taller man behind him. One arm wrapped around his waist, holding him tightly, the other laced through his hair, the Virginian pressed his front to Alexander and forced him to look into the glass.

The trapped man’s mouth stop protesting and dropped as he gaped at the sight before him. Fuck...

His entire throat was clad with a thick, expensive leather collar with a shining metal buckle to hold it to his skin. On both sides of his neck hung two metal rings, the purpose of which were currently undefined, and on the front of his throat…

“Is that a plaque?” He inquired carefully, squinting into the mirror at the small metal strip adorning the center of the leather.

His eyes met with Thomas’s in the mirror; his handler smirked approvingly, mischief on his mind.

“Why don’t you take a closer look?” he offered, cooly releasing Alex from his grip to step gingerly towards the mirror.

Alex, surprised about his release, gulped and stopped to scoured the plaque, noticing small disturbances on the surface. His poor eyesight was not helping him out too much.   
He tilted his head towards the light which reflected off of the metal and revealed deep, formal engravings of letters. He read them carefully.

There was an electric pause.

The small man’s heart jolted into his throat, his breathing hitched violently in his chest. All of a sudden his eyes widened... blood rushed downwards towards his member.

Oh… Fuck…

The word Jefferson glinted sharply in the candlelight.

It was etched in the most formal lettering, professionally marking the wearer of the collar as owned. Property.   
Holy fuck…

Thomas could see Alexander’s reaction to his little present clear as day and smirked in satisfaction. Alexander was falling apart at the notion of being possessed by him, of belonging to him, and it was more than evident in his helpless little display. 

Alex squirmed defenselessly in his current state, looking back over his shoulder at Thomas, a begging plea in his eyes.

The cruel Virginian regarded him coldly for a moment, finally deciding that he had made the poor bastard wait for it long enough. It was time to chain him up in the other gifts and serve him the punishment he had been in desperation for. 

The taller man stepped forth slowly and calmly set his hands on Alexander’s shoulders in a patronizing manner, the immigrant still staring baffledly at his name of ownership on the collar.

At Thomas’s unexpected touch, Alexander looked up abruptly and met the Virginians’s cold eyes in the mirror, fear, thrill, fire, and desperation in his own. 

“Please…” He whimpered weakly, pressing back against Thomas in hopes of propelling him into his well-deserved punishment.   
“Please…” 

Thomas’s hands still on Alex’s shoulders, he addressed him through the mirror. 

“Go to the bed, Alexander.” he spoke softly. 

A glint of fire flickered in his brown eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation of "dégoûtant, petite garce coquine" : Disgusting, naughty little bitch.


	19. Chains and Leather Pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What began in the previous chapter continues with our two passionate enemies, and after wild erotic sex, maybe they are both finally feeling something they are forcing into silence...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading! It really means so much! :)

Alexander speed-walked out of the bathroom and clambered onto the bed clumsily, ruining the sheets. He’d been waiting impatiently for too fucking long thanks to that pompous cunt, and he’d be damned it Thomas didn’t get right to nailing his ass. 

Alex leaned back on the luxuriously fluffed pillows and spread his legs whorishly as far as they could go; The chilly air kissed his smooth skin. If Thomas didn’t fuck him like this then pigs were flying over New York City. 

He smirked in deep satisfaction; his plan for tonight was going exactly how he had anticipated. Bicker, mooch a meal off the guy, and get the best dicking in New York all while making sure his political rival had absolutely nothing to say at the next Cabinet meeting. Brilliant as per usual, if he does say so himself.

He spread his legs a little wider, shuffling; Thomas didn’t have to know that between four and seven thirty he had crafted a lethal argument that would put the Democratic Republicans on their knees. 

The young Treasurer was just beginning to curiously and halfway-fearfully eye the pile of chains remaining at the end of the bed, when Thomas strolled out of the bathroom, his masterpiece of a body now available for Alexander’s hungry eyes to devour. 

“What’re you looking at?” Thomas spat, accent heavy with disgust as he padded across the floor towards the foot of the bed, scowling threateningly at Alexander, who lowered his eyes. 

Thomas fumbled with the heap of chains and leather, not bothering to look at Alex as he spoke.  
“I’ve had my wit’s end with you, Alexander.” he drawled, untangling something sinisterly.  
Alex craned to view this new item, anticipation pumping uncontrolled through his veins. 

“I give you ample warnings to behave yourself and you continue to push your luck.” Thomas turned his head towards the spread man, calmly holding a new item as he scolded.  
“And you give me no choice but to punish you for talking back to daddy.” Thomas slowly stepped towards Alexander and swung a leg onto the bed, then the other whilst tracking Alexander’s every movement. 

“You want to talk?” He snarled deeply, “You don’t fucking deserve it.” 

He finally raised the item for Alexander to see; he scoured it with his eyes quickly. It was mostly black leather, but part of it was a naughty looking metal caging. Two thick straps with buckles dangled from it, right alongside two lengths of chains.

Thomas sneered at Alexander’s expression and crept on his knees up towards his pelvis, torturing him by not touching him in any way.  
“A muzzle,” He snarled, “for the filthy bitch you are.” 

Without giving Alex any time to react, Thomas leaned forward, fitting the muzzle to the straddled mans face roughly, buckling the two straps behind his head, one above his ears, one below. Alex growled in protest but didn’t dare speak out; he was burning so desperately for dick that he wouldn’t risk anything despite his deepest desires. 

“Look at you... being such a good boy for me.” Thomas purred in satisfaction at the livid immigrant’s seething glare and laughed. 

He took the chains in hand and hooked them each to one of the rings on the side of Alexander’s collar, metal clinking erotically.  
Oh… so that is what they were for. 

Alexander tried experimentally to toss his head but to no avail, the muzzle chains and collar kept him in firm place. 

This only amused Thomas further; not bothering to break eye contact and miss the show, he reached behind him.  
“Not so talkative now, are we?” he mocked ruthlessly as the chained man tried to buck his head. “Hmph.” Thomas grunted in satisfaction at the sight. 

“One more present for the naughty little boy.” Thomas drawled, pulling the thing towards them, lengthy chains dragging across the bed ominously.  
“Daddy loves to see you squirm and struggle, slut.” Alex shifted.

Thomas moved his free hand to run a single finger slowly, torturously up the underside of the little man’s soft, throbbing cock. Alexander whimpered and fell for the Virginian’s trap, hips helplessly bucking into Thomas’s waiting hand just how he said they would. 

“Mm.” He hummed deliciously. “Well, nothing would make daddy happier than to see you suffer.” 

Alex flinched as the cold chains met with his skin, dragging over his legs and allowing him to realize what the purpose was.  
Reflexively, he strained to look up at the top of the headboard (muzzle and chains restricting him) but managed to catch a glimpse of a shining metal hook that he somehow knew would be there, waiting.  
He lowered his head back at Thomas and considered for a moment. The Virginian raised a dark eyebrow quizzingly, waiting for his response. 

Alexander submissively lowered his head, eyes downcast, and slowly, obediently, extended his bare wrists to his master.

Thomas shook his head exhaled. “Such a good boy for me…” he praised as he lifted the last toy, the chain and leather handcuffs, and opened the buckles one at a time.

Alexander watched in thrilled silence, adrenaline pulsing through his chest, as Thomas buckled the thick wrist cuffs over his skin and fastened them snugly. The two men paused once he had finished and trained each other’s eyes, ice evident in the Virginian’s and fire in the immigrant’s. 

Thomas ran his hand down the chain that trailed from the cuffs.  
“Are you going to behave for daddy?” he whispered, looking down into Alexander’s leather-clad face while unhurriedly raising the chain upwards. Alex’s wrists followed close behind.  
Thomas’s distinctly handsome face hovered impossibly close to Alexander’s as he latched the chain onto the metal hook, feeling the small man’s rapid breath through the caged muzzle. Alexander’s pleading eyes melted into Thomas’s brown ones, darting down to his lips and back up. God, how he suddenly needed to kiss him… but that would not be possible. 

“Look at you…” Thomas breathed, devouring the sight, “chained up like the naughty boy you are.” Erotic disgust was discernible in his grumbling voice as he slowly ran his fingers down Alexander’s vulnerable chest. 

He continued to touch Alex, fingertips just barely tracing the sensitive skin as he brushed his thumbs over his nipples, making him shiver defenselessly.  
“There, there…” Thomas purred, ever so lightly tracing over Alex’s heaving ribs, the sensation almost unbearable as he pulled against his suspended, chained arms, whimpering shrilly.

Thomas laughed lightly. “Someone’s ready for his punishment.”  
With one last sweeping stroke to the little man’s ribs, he placed his whole powerful hands firmly on Alex’s sides, grippingly strongly as he grinded achingly slow into the immigrant’s soft area of searing desperation. 

Alexander moaned throatily before his handler rolled his hips into him once more, earning him yet another moan on the verge of a sob. He looked back up to see the poor man’s eyes squeezed shut, struggling to deal with the torture; his ribs heaved shakily against his palms. 

Thomas’s right hand travelled to the overheated place where their members were meeting.

“Aww… does someone want his daddy’s cock?” he pouted condescendingly. The Virginian moved behind Alexander and shuffled into position between his legs, just barely touching his opening with the tip of his cock and kneading his palms over Alexander’s sharp hip bones. 

“You want it bad?” he mocked sulkily. 

Alexander’s reaction to the degradation was absolutely priceless. The chains jangled as he pulled at them and squirmed uncontrollably, eyes squeezed closed, whining in a wordless beg. 

“Crying won’t get you anywhere.” Thomas drawled cruelly.  
“But it makes me want to give you something real to cry about.” he whispered, extending his hand to Alex’s caged mouth. 

“Spit now, filthy little bitch. I won’t ask again…”

Alexander basically leaped to spit in his master’s hand, not even thinking about how he had so firmly resisted this inhumane treatment only days ago. Thomas had him dancing at his fingertips, he realized. He had become so much more brutal... and Alexander fucking loved it. 

Thomas coated his delicious cock and gave it two firm strokes for good measure. Alex pleadingly shuffled in his chains and spread his legs further, begging for the process to go quicker. The dominant man eyed him warningly with his dark gaze and smoothly pressed the tip of his cock back against Alexander’s entrance.

“Look me in the eyes, Alexander.” he commanded icily to his sub, who had dropped his chin to his chest in anticipation of the aching sting. Alex drearily lifted his gaze to Thomas’s, facing the fact that he didn’t deserve to get prepared; he had lost the privilege. He would have to bear it and he would do it for daddy. 

Thomas nodded approvingly before beginning with Alexander, thrusting deeply inside. He was not gentle on his little partner… not in the slightest. 

The small man roared in ferocious, pained lust, pulling fiercely down on his binding chains.  
“Shut the fuck up.” Thomas snarled at his plaything, striking out a hand to grasp his collared throat and hold him in dangerous possession. 

He rolled his hips back and slammed in once again much harder than the first time and began a steady brutal rhythm, relishing in Alexander’s screaming moans that echoed through the house’s walls.  
With his free hand, Thomas spat hastily into his palm and seized Alexander’s aching cock, slowly running his wet hand up and back down, far more slowly than how he was pounding the man remorselessly. 

Bucking up into the well-waited-for stroking, Alexander wailed and rattled his chains, entire body screaming with waves of intense pleasure. The powerful grip on his scorching cock, the possessive clamp on his throat, the heartless, savage pounding deep inside his ass… After all this waiting, the little man was not going to last long at the mercy of Thomas Jefferson. 

Thomas growled and shifted his knees a bit, getting into a position that granted him more room for movement. His sub was too lost in melting, moaning, ecstasy to ask what he was doing until it was too late. 

With every raw thrust the Virginian began to twist his hips powerfully, screwing his impeccable cock into Alexander with added friction. He struck the little man’s prostate skillfully with every expert drive, eager to watch his reaction with rapture. 

Alexander immediately gasped, eyes shooting open at the shocking sensation and caterwauled through his muzzle. This fueled Thomas to continue as his pet writhed wildly, sides heaving noisily with shrill breathlessness. 

The obscene sounds of erotic sex filled the room as Alexander’s stunned pleasure gradually boiled to a melting point, the intense ache of on-the-verge orgasm pressing to his abdomen.

With every single pound he squeaked helplessly; he was sobbing with each individual thrust. Tears leaked from his clenched-closed eyes as the pleasure mounted to be too much, he couldn’t fucking bear it… he couldn’t. He felt so full with pulsating cock, his little ass was throbbing with over-intense pleasure. He needed to cum. He could feel it.

Forcing his eyes open with pained difficulty, Alexander struggled to focus on his dom’s face, a desperate beg outpouring from his eyes.

After only a moment, Thomas realized Alex was fervently trying to communicate with him and returned the gaze coldly. Recognition spread across his face when he interpreted Alexander’s urgent expression. 

“You need to cum, baby?” He panted patronizingly through his thrusts, placing a protective, condescending hand on his belly. The helpless man nodded frantically, chains rattling in true desperation. 

“Mmm… Fine, my worthless little slut. Show daddy how grateful you are for your punishment.” Thomas sneered heartlessly. 

At this, Alexander sounded a guttural wail as he and Thomas cummed at exactly the same time, the warm, full feeling of his master’s satisfaction causing him to release every last squirt of his pleasure onto his waiting belly. 

His sobs racked him helplessly with every shudder that washed through his body, his most intense orgasm yet reverberating through his veins.  
He barely even heard Thomas quietly moan, “Alexander… yes…” in front of him as the chained man cried in pleasure. 

“Good boy…” Thomas faintly breathed, shakily rubbing his palms over Alexander’s hip bones once more, massaging him comfortingly while his entire body twitched and quivered. 

“Good…” he purred, watching Alexander’s head roll back in complete exhaustion; his tears were glistening on his cheeks as he whimpered and murmured incoherently. 

A few more moments were given by the Virginian for Alex to come down from his climax, all the while kneading and massaging his hips to comfort him. 

Little Alexander barely realizing, Thomas unhooked his arms from his chains above him, unbuckled his handcuffs and moved gently forward to carefully remove his muzzle from his fatigued face.  
The taller of the two delicately held his partner’s head and laid him down into the pillows, sighing in alleviation. 

Slight smile upon his face, Thomas watched Alexander for a moment in silence before tilting the small man’s chin up gently and kissing him slow and soft. 

“Better?” he inquired thoughtfully as he pulled away an inch.  
Alexander, eyes still closed, nodded wearily to his handler, drifting.

Thomas Jefferson smiled again as he saw Alex searched for his lips with his own and tenderly, passionately, pressed his to Alexander’s once more; the little man's wet face meeting with his own. 

They slowly, gently lapped into each other's mouths for half a minute before Thomas needed to collapse back in exhaustion, too tired to hold himself up for much more time.  
It had been a long night for the both of them...


	20. Rainfall and Promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas wakes in the middle of the night to find Alexander missing. Assuming the worst, he thinks he has up and left as he stumbles through the house, but finds him instead on the porch, watching the rain. Their conversation holds something that turns their hold world upside down...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sit back and get ready for a long one! Stay tuned for next chapter!! 💗💗

The bedroom door creaked open and closed causing the blank-staring Alexander to look over. He rolled his head to the other side to see Thomas reentering, still wearing nothing but pants. 

“Thanks for helping me put everything away, Alexander. Really appreciate it.” he drawled, strolling to his dresser and opening the middle drawer.  
“Anytime.” Alexander smiled sweetly then snorted at his partner, for he had not helped in the slightest. Like he’d ever. 

Satin rustled as the muscular man pulled a shirt over his strapping body and shrugged his shoulders, getting comfortable. Alexander was watching him, mesmerized as he dressed and turned towards the bed, bare feet padding on the floor.

When he got close enough, he stopped and sneered in disgust, brown eyes revolted. 

“You didn’t even move?!” He scoffed down at the man laying on his back, who was still, to Thomas’s elegant disdain, covered in both of their cum. 

Alex scowled up tiredly, leaning back on his elbows.

“I’m sorry DAD. I orgasm harder than you; I needed to breathe so I didn’t fucking die on your expensive, polished floors.”  
“You orgasm harder because I do all the work.”

“Bullshit, you should be grateful, you pompous fuck; I’m a hell of a lot better than your right hand.”  
“If you don’t want to catch my right hand you’d better get your ass to the bathroom in three seconds, bitch.” 

“Hey, I can’t even move, asshole!”  
“One.”  
“Ughhhh…”  
“TWO.”  
“Alright, al-RIGHT, stop shoving.”  
“Now.”  
“Don’t touch me.”  
“NOW.”

Alex stiffly dropped his feet to the floor and limped dramatically to the bathroom, leaving the door wide open from sheer lack of fucks to give.  
“You’re mean.” he pouted, pulling his hair up in front of the mirror. 

Thomas shook his head, shoving down the bubbling urge to smile and turned back to replacing the sheets in an orderly fashion. Christ, they had really ruined them this time. 

After five minutes of quiet maintenance, Thomas strolled back into the bedroom with a glass of water to angrily observe Alexander digging around in his neat drawer.  
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He spat, expecting Alex to jump but the stubborn man didn’t even look up.

“Getting clothes.”  
“You didn’t bring your own?”  
Alex paused turning his annoyed glance towards Thomas. “No.” He scoffed incredulously, as if the Virginian had asked if he’d brought the king of England. 

Thomas had set his glass down on the bed alcove shelf and crossed his arms, shaking his head disbelievingly at Alexander.  
“I’m sorry, but can you fucking read?” 

The sound of the wooden drawer closing rang out as the immigrant turned to walk towards the bed, Thomas’s most expensive pair of scarlet nightclothes in hand.  
“What kind of question is that?” he spat. 

“In my letter, I said that you’d be staying the night. What part of that means ‘fuck it and wear Thomas’s clothes’ to you?”  
“Uh, I don’t know, the part where your clothes are really, really soft.”  
“You’re insufferable.”  
“Pathetic.”  
“Despicable.”  
“Petty.” 

By now their bickering faded into rustling sheets as they clambered over each other into bed, squabbling over which side was Alexander’s and how the pillows should be distributed. 

They finally settled down from their frenzied shuffling as Thomas blew out the candle, washing the two in velvety darkness broken only by the faint silver moonlight. He sighed and laid back down flat on his back, hands neatly over his belly as he exhaled. Several moments of nighttime quiet passed before…

“Hey, Jeffs, you bring me a glass of water?” 

Thomas opened his eyes once more and rolled them impossibly far back into his head. Nobody. Not a single person was more exasperating. It was a fucking marvel.

“No, Alexander. I did not get you any water. And don’t call me that.”  
“Well I’m thirsty.”  
“That you are, Alexander.”  
“Oh, shut up. Pass over the water, twat.”

Thomas turned over onto his side away from Alexander and sighed sleepily once more.  
“Well, tough luck. I don’t want your diphtheria or whatever you’ve got.”  
“Seems a little late for that, don’t you think, buddy? Not like we had our tongues down each other’s throats ten minutes ago.”

Thomas groaned, running both hands over his face in pure irritation.  
“If I give you some goddamn water will you shut the fuck up?”  
“Most certainly.”  
“Hallelujah.” he grumbled, passing the cold glass across his body to Alex who drank the entire thing before handing it back. 

The tired Virginian didn’t even scold him this time, just let the petty conversation go and decided some sleep was in his best interest at the moment.  
He turned onto his back at closed his eyes, letting himself be still. 

“Goodnight, Thomas.”  
“Hmph.” 

And the room went quiet under the blanket of night, the scent of summer sleep hanging heavily in the air…

***

A ribbon of chilled draft threaded its way into the deep blue of the lush bedsheets. It drifted aimlessly, probing until it found the warm heat of Thomas Jefferson and curled against his soft belly, chilling him.

Goosebumps spread throughout his arms as he was nudged uncomfortably from his deep dreaming, consciousness slowly sifting up to the surface. He shivered for a moment and exhaled an exhausted breath, grunting and reached out one heavy arm, eyes still falling closed. He weakly grappled for Alexander, trying to hook the little one by the waist and pull him close for body heat.  
Thomas groped at nothing but cold, empty sheets. 

His eyes shot open as something deep inside him jolted, consciousness breaking through the surface. The tall man pulled himself into a sitting position in their bed, drowsiness long snuffed out. 

“Alex?” He croaked, groggy night voice ringing through the room. There was no response. He ran a hand through his hair.

No fucking way… Would the bastard stoop that low?  
Thomas already knew the answer.  
Alexander had left. He had got up in the middle of the night and left Thomas after he’d fallen asleep. 

“Little cunt…” Thomas whispered, stumbling out of bed towards his wardrobe, yanking both creaky doors open in a flurry of wind.  
He pulled his thickest fur coat out from the darkness within and staggered hastily back to the bed, leaning over it to snatch the candle and its holder.

“Ff..! Shit!” He hissed and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment of flaring pain as a spark from the match had grazed across his finger. Shaking his hand out frantically, he forced the sting down and hopped towards the door, breathing through the pain. 

The shadowy halls were stiflingly dark and silent as he crashed through them angrily, calling Alexander’s name through the night while his candle flickered frenziedly.  
He pushed through the empty dining room. Nothing.  
Unbelievable. 

It all made sense now; this is why Alexander had come over in the first place. He didn’t fucking want to eat with Thomas or have sex with Thomas or sleep with Thomas no. The only thing on that heartless sociopath wanted was to keep his nemesis from doing any work on the day before the most important Cabinet meeting yet, the one that would probably decide the entire future of the nation that was now at Alexander’s fingertips. That deceitful, wicked bastard… 

No longer knowing what he was looking for or why, Thomas thudded up the north corridor, past the spiraling stairs. There was something bubbling up into Thomas’s chest that he was shoving back down; it wasn’t hatred, it was more powerful than that. Far more powerful… He violently shook his head to clear whatever the hell was going on. 

It was pouring outside now, that was evident by the rushing sound of pattering water as the tall Virginian approached the end of the north corridor, a place where the door led out onto the covered, columned porch. 

He stopped at the door and breathed. Everything was still.

A breath of moist, metallic, outdoor air slipped through the door and met with Thomas’s nose, allowing him to smell the summer rain.  
Hand on the knob, he sighed and ever so slowly leaned his forehead gently on the cool surface. He stood there for several long moments. 

Going out there would be a good choice, he thought rationally through all the storming going on in his mind. He needed to clear his head and the fresh air would be half the remedy. Just go outside. 

Exhaling deeply, he pushed the door open. A cool, humid wall of air buffeted his face as he stepped outside, his bare feet cold on the bricks.  
Slanted sheets of rain fell in dancing patterns onto the grassy gardens beyond the porch, into the darkness, giving off the warm, wet, earthy smell of a rainy summer night. 

Thomas scanned the familiar place where he often enjoyed a pleasant book. The chairs, the fireplace, but his favorite by far was his peaceful porch swing he held so dearly.  
As he padded towards it, an unexpected voice sounded out. 

“Up so late, Jefferson?”

Thomas shrieked and jumped five feet backwards in one leap; his heart pounded maniacally as he scrambled and dropped the candle to the floor with a clang. The flame hissed out.  
A shape on the porch swing shifted.  
“Holy shit, man, chill out.” the voice snorted quietly. 

“Wh- Alexander?” The startled man scoffed in complete astonishment.  
“Nah, George Washington--of course it’s me, thickhead.” 

This was unbelievable; he didn’t believe it. Why…?  
Thomas caught his breath, hand on his rapidly beating heart and slowly rea-approached the swing, rain drumming melodically in the night. 

He stopped in front of the swing and hesitated. Should he stay?  
Why did With no words, only a single deep breath, the Virginian seated himself lightly on the swing, chains clinking as it swayed under his movement.  
A foot to his left sat Alexander, legs curled under him on the soft cushioning and staring rigidly straight ahead out into the rain.

Thomas continued to scan his blank face for several dragging moments and then sighed.  
“Why are you out here, Alexander?” he inquired, “I thought you’d left.” 

There was a short pause as the little man shifted his weight a bit.  
“Left?” he repeated  
“Mhm.” Thomas grunted at Alex’s stony face, turning to look out at the storm as well when the other man failed to meet his gaze. A distant rolling of deep thunder sounded through the darkness. 

“Well. I didn’t leave.”

“Thanks for the update. How much longer until you answer the question? Thinking about running for president in the meantime.”  
“Funny.” Alex retorted quietly, clearly not in a bickering mood which was a definite red flag to Thomas. The immigrant’s gaze shifted to the ground.... They sat side by side in uncomfortable silence as the rain poured around them. 

Alex’s eyes darted to Thomas and then back at the ground. Silence.

“I just… really like the rain.” he finally breathed, getting it over with.

“Huh?” 

“I love rain. It kind of reminds me of home, that’s all.”  
“Oh.” Thomas nodded to his feet. 

“What is it?” Alex quizzed, picking up on the rare confused tone in the Secretary of State’s voice.

Thomas shifted and crossed his ankles, “Nothing, it’s just the peculiar irony of that notion. One who’s town was destroyed by a hurricane to love rain; it’s curious.”  
Alexander nodded and smiled weakly, turning his face towards Thomas for the first time. 

“ L'ennemi est souvent sa passion la plus profonde. ‘One’s enemy is often his deepest passion’. Give or take....”  
“I do speak French, you are aware?”  
“Not very well, though.”  
Thomas scoffed, “For your information, I graduated with honors at the Academy- Oh fuck you, Alexander.” He cut off in strained laughter as the little man giggled quietly beside him.  
The two choked down smiles and looked back out at the rain for a fleeting heartbeat of hopefulness. Despite trying to suspend the moment, tension slowly wormed and burrowed its way back between them and settled heavily. Thomas sniffed and uncrossed his ankles, slowly tracing a pattern of some meaningless shape on the porch floor.

“So,” Alexander began much too quietly; he immediately cleared his throat in embarrassment and tried again, reddening.  
“So… What, uh- what’d you and James decide about the whole ordeal?”

Thomas squinted, puzzled.  
“Ordeal…?”  
“You know…” Alexander coughed slightly and scratched the back of his neck, “That we fought about.” he mumbled.

Thomas lit up in recognition, “Ohh, you mean the one that you physically threw fists over?”  
Alexander squirmed uncomfortably and cleared his throat again, “Yeah. That.”  
Thomas sniffed.

“Well, you can consider it done. However, I do have to prepare James lunch every day for the rest of the month on his condition. So that should be a joy.” 

“Hah.” Alexander only nodded distantly at his reply. 

Another deep roll of thunder grumbled in the night air and somehow, Thomas could feel it in his chest.  
The rainfall changed directions, blowing the other way and causing the leaves in the towering, ancient trees to rustle and whisper in the torrents. The boughs creaked and groaned as they swayed in the downpour.  
And somehow, for a moment, Thomas felt like he was in the faroff Caibbean.  
It was an inexplicable sort of feeling, like he’d suddenly been engulfed by a lost painting and was filled with the sounds and smells of a distant, blustering island. They were inside him, it was a part of him…  
And... so was Alexander. Clinging onto the wordless feeling, he sighed deeply and decided to break this impenetrable silence.

“That’s not why you’re here, Alexander.” he spoke softly out into the rain. His brown eyes glanced over at the small boy, “You know it’s not.”  
Alexander didn’t speak, he didn’t move at all; his rigid face stared stubbornly forward. 

Thomas shook his head, “Look, I don’t know what you’re doing all alone in the rain in the middle of the night, but I’m not going to leave you alone until I figure it out.” He spoke firmly this time, putting serious emphasis into his every word.  
“So if I have to stay out here and bother you until the sun comes back around, so be it.” Thomas turned his whole body around on the swing, facing Alexander so he couldn’t possibly ignore him any further. 

“I’m not going anywhere, Hamilton.” He finished. 

The Virginian could almost see something in Alexander’s chest lurch. The little man hesitated and opened his mouth as if to speak, closed it, and opened again. He closed his eyes and huffed.  
“It’s not your damn problem, Jefferson.” He sputtered. “You don’t care. So why don’t you make this easier for both of us and get your precious ass back to bed.”

“Tough luck, buddy. Nobody ever fucking said I didn’t care, so don’t put words in my mouth.” 

Alexander opened his mouth to snap back but Thomas was sick of the little man getting the best of arguments; he interrupted him easily.  
“I plead the final.” He asserted coldly, scooting towards Alexander and cornering him so that their legs were almost touching. 

“What are you talking about?” Alex sneered, trying to muster up some weak fire to use against the bigger man. 

“Our final rule. You’re going to tell me the truth right now, Alexander, I won’t make a fucking exception. This was a directive we both agreed on and my ass if you’re going to renounce it right here, right now.” 

Alex looked down at where their feet were close together, his long brown hair brushing his shoulders gently in the damp breeze.  
There was a deep, long pause as he breathed, Thomas watching the man’s every move with observant care, and with shock when he saw…

A single, shining tear pearled in Alexander’s right eye and teetered, spilled over soundlessly, rolling down his cheek and splattering onto the cushioned swing seat.  
Alex snapped his arm up instantly and rubbed the wet streak off in a rough manner, angry that it had dared show itself. He rubbed his face hastily and moved to put his hand back down in his lap, in mortified shame. 

Thomas was… stunned by Alexander’s reluctant display; he was at an utter loss for words. It shook him deeply in a place he was completely unaware he had... and it scared him. 

But what shocked him the most was his own reaction. The startled man suddenly felt as though he was helpless, so very small… had he ever felt that before?  
In a flurry of movements he choked it down and stuffed it aside, this wasn’t him.  
Alexander was… crying. Right in front of his eyes. And Thomas knew somehow that he needed to be there, he needed to be strong, standing, gentle for him. He had to.

The powerful urge surged up from an ancient place within the Virginian while he moved to wrap his arms around the little boy, pulling him closely into his chest, legs over his. 

“Stop it, Thomas, leave me al-” but his voice was muffled and cut off as the bigger man held his head to his chest tenderly, wrapping his whole body protectively around the little immigrant.

Alexander struggled and squirmed for only a few moments before understanding that Thomas was not going to let him go. Not by a long shot. He was going to hold him in this warm, stuffy, embrace for as long as it took. 

Alex breathed one shaky sigh before giving in, letting his body go limp as Thomas enveloped his around him, powerful and firm. It was warm so close to his partner, his thick coat cushioning all of their body heat. 

Thomas sighed. “Alexander… You can tell me. It’s going to be alright.” He murmured calmly, voice humming in Alexander’s ear as he pressed against his chest. 

Completely letting go, Alexander choked out single sob, a real sob; Thomas’s arms immediately squeezed closer.  
The little man began to gently shake as wet tears spilled silently across his face and onto Thomas’s shirt, unseen in the close embrace. 

“It’s… It’s just dreams, it’s pathetic… but my mother- she. When she died… she was holding me- we were so sick… She was holding me…” He wept quietly.

A little piece of Thomas’s heart broke that night. He didn’t understand it, not in the slightest. But he could feel it happen.

“She was holding me… Thomas…” He trailed off, hiccuping once in the muffled fur and continued quiver slightly with exhausted, weak sobs. 

Thomas wrapped firmly around him, holding him as best he could.  
Still at a loss of words, it was the only thing he could do… and despite everything he knew in this world telling him that this was unthinkable… For some reason, somehow, he felt like it was enough. 

The torrents of rain pattered off the waxy leaves of the trees; the downpour soaked the house in humid, blustering sheets of rainfall.  
Another deep well of thunder rolled across the sky and into the night, grumbling until it disappeared. Just another rainstorm on a late summer evening. 

But as the Virginian and his enemy sat on a porch swing together, wrapped in a gentle embrace… 

It was impossible not to feel something as they listened to the soft pitter patter of rain…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned for next chapter! 😄💗 Thanks for reading! ❤️❤️


	21. Payback...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas is furious on finding that Alexander had manipulated him with sex the last night, distracting him from work. A threat from Thomas in the carriage ride to the Cabinet meeting sets a dark warning for how he will show the Treasurer his revenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and commenting! Next chapter soon! (gonna be some real shit) :D

Oh my. Fucking. God…” Thomas grunted out strained huffs of words as feeling crept back into his body and he realized that he could hardly move. He was so stiff. Every muscle in his body felt rigid and tight. 

On opening his dry eyes, they were stung by the glare of a cloudy morning; the earth around the gardens was soaked into black soil. The tree’s leaves hung limply; little droplets of water splattered off the tips of leaves quietly and one lonely mockingbird’s coos rang in the crisp dawn.  
He squinted and slowly, stiffly, began to sit up a bit more from his slouched position, his head had been laying on top of Alexander’s. Neck and back cracking and popping at the same time, he woke up the curled little man. 

Alex stirred a bit.  
“Mmm…” he groaned and sniffed, “don’t move anymore, Thomas, your bones’ll wake up the whole neighborhood…” he murmured muffledly and burrowed deeper into Thomas’s belly as if to go back to sleep.  
He went still. 

“Get up, Alexander, I can’t feel my limbs.” Thomas huffed shifting to move rigidly away.

“Mmhm…” the little man mumbled, blindly hooking a heavy arm around Thomas’s waist and holding him firmly in place.  
“Nooo…” He groaned, holding tight as Thomas tried to peel his arm off his middle, roughly shaking him away.  
“Special medical treatment… Need at least twelve hours of sleep with warm, soft person or I die.” he mumbled muffledly. 

Thomas snorted in annoyance, “Well, in that case.” He finally tore the velcro-like man off his body and leaned forward stiffly.  
Knees popping like never before, he stood laboriously.  
“Ah… shit.” He grimaced, rolling his neck around and facing the gardens to observe the new day dawning on New York. A rooster joined the mockingbird, signaling the rise of the sun somewhere beneath the thin blanket of grey clouds.

“Sure you’re twenty?” Alexander piped up, yawning and slowly rising to a sitting position on the swing with a sigh, “Your joints make Ben Franklin sound like a young stud.” he jested, settling his head on the back of the cushioned seat and closing his eyes again, shifting his hips to get comfortable. 

“If you weren’t so fucking small I’d have something to rest my head on instead of breaking my damn neck.”  
“You’re right, I’m sorry. Next time I’ll come a little taller for ya.” 

Thomas shook his head, suddenly cross. “Shut your mouth, I don’t have time for this. We’re going inside. Now. I have a lot of work to do.” he snapped as he made way for the door.

Alexander lazily placed his hands behind his head and sighed leisurely, closing his eyes in comfort.  
“I don’t.” he smirked cruelly, settling in. 

Thomas whirled back around to glare at the little man.  
As soon as he had woken up this morning with Alexander in his arms, the seriousness of today’s circumstance had settled on him about as gently as a sack of bricks. It had hit him that the filthy weasel had trapped him into sex so he had no choice but to leave that shitload of Cabinet work for today. Whether there was a moment or not… Alexander had manipulated him once again.

“I know you don’t, you ratty little bastard.” He spat.  
“I don’t want you out of my sight. I know what you’re doing and I’m sick of your fucking games, Alexander. Sick.” 

The towering Virginian shook his head and took a few threatening steps towards the arrogant, smug little man who was mocking him with his leisure. Alexander opened his eyes as Thomas stopped in front of him, staring up in lazy mischief at the fiery aggression in his brown glare.  
He smirked and laid his head back once more to close his eyes. “Well, well, well. Someone woke up on the wrong side of the swing.” he mocked without looking at his partner. 

Suddenly, he choked as a ferocious grip seized him by the scruff of the neck violently, clenching some hair in his ruthless fingers as well. Alexander’s eyes shot open as he yelped in shock, outraged at the treatment.  
As soon as his eyes had opened, he barely caught a flashing glimpse of Thomas’s livid brown ferocity before his head snapped forcefully to the side with a powerful white hot pain. 

“AUGH FUCK!” Alexander roared in agony, blinking laboriously as the searing twinge burned throughout his entire face. Unable to move his head owing to the iron grip, he forced his watering eyes open to fume in utter, scorching hatred at his enemy. 

Thomas stared Alex down, icy fire smoldering in his eyes.  
“Speak to me like that one more time and you will be sorry you were born, Mr. Hamilton.” He whispered, panting, drawing closer to Alex’s face that he had just smacked the daylights out of.  
“We are going inside. Now... Don’t you dare think I won’t make you” 

Alex squirmed in rebellious resistance to the restraint.  
“What the FUCK are you talking about?!” he snarled ferociously through bared teeth.  
“You’re fucking crazy!” he bucked against the grip. 

Thomas twisted his hair, face screwing up in lividness.  
Alexander squealed and saw sparks in his eyes, realizing he should submit to Thomas now sooner than later. 

“Okay, okay please!” he begged loudly, eyes squeezed shut in pain, “I roped you into having sex so you wouldn’t be able to work. But you wanted it too and you know it! You were begging for my ass!”  
Thomas paused, loosening his grip dangerously slowly; Alex looked up in timid apprehension.

“Ohh, you’ve really fucked yourself now, Alexander Hamilton.” he growled, shaking his head, slicing into Alex with his cruel brown eyes.  
The taller man surged forward and wrapped his powerful arm around Alexander’s middle, lifting him up easily and carelessly flinging him over his shoulder like a worthless sack of flour.  
“Put me the FUCK down, Jefferson!” Alexander complained loudly, striking the Virginian’s back with his clenched knuckles. 

Thomas immediately raised the hand that wasn’t holding him and spanked him as hard as he was capable, shutting him up.  
“You’re making this worse for yourself, Alexander. Shut your filthy mouth while you can or I’ll beat the living shit out of you.” he threatened. 

Alexander protested the entire way as Thomas hauled him through the warm house, clunking through the north passage, the entrance hall, past an open room that looked like a smaller parlor, and through a dark walnut door into yet another round room that Thomas was so fond of designing. 

“Sit.” Thomas commanded, sliding Alexander over the back of his shoulder, ruffling his nightclothes. 

“You’re raving mad. You’re actually fucking crazy.” Alexander scoffed, watching his tall partner open a creaky trunk and shuffle in its contents; not responding to the little man’s slandering.  
Thomas dragged a rattling mass of chains out of the trunk, the links slithering out like serpents.

“I said. Sit.” 

Alexander thumped down on the hardwood floor begrudgingly, huffing in frustration. With another glance he could tell that the handcuffs were in Thomas’s possession once again and he suddenly had no clue in which direction Thomas was going to go. Would he spank the daylights out of him and leave him horny, would he fuck him right here on the hard floor? The cabinet meeting was at five o clock, there would be plenty of time for Alex to get what he wanted.  
He squirmed in impatient thirst, cursing Thomas for making him wait. 

The Virginian turned back towards him and approached his sub, not bothering to ask for his wrists as he reached down and seized them in heartless brutality, rolling up the long scarlet sleeves.  
Alex shifted frustratedly as Thomas fastened the binds on him, irritated with the unusual lack of instruction. 

“On my knees? Belly?” He scoffed annoyedly, badgering him for some orders as Thomas chained the other end to the heavy table leg next to him and stood up, brushing off his hands. 

“You’re never satisfied, are you.” Thomas looked down on him disgustedly; it was a statement not a question. Turning away, he walked to the other side of the room and rounded the desk, checking inside a creaky drawer nonchalantly. 

“If you think you’re going to get fucked this morning, you’re dead wrong, Hamilton.” he continued to shuffle around, not bothering to glance at the seated, chained Alexander.  
“We have a cabinet meeting this evening, you disgraceful whore, and I am the fucking Secretary of State. I am in charge of this country and one lousy, mangy politician isn’t going to weasel his scrawny ass into my way.” 

Thomas sat himself down heavily in the ornate chair and pulled it in close to the desk, “Am I perfectly fucking clear?” he placed his rimmed glasses on his face and cocked his head mockingly at the man on the other side of the room. 

Alex nodded. “So that’s it, huh. Classy, aristocratic Thomas -fucking- Jefferson just chains me up like an animal and makes me wait.”  
He sneered incredulously. 

Half ignoring him, Thomas had already laid out a piece of parchment on his desk and was dipping a quill in his ink bottle with a clink.  
“Yes, Alexander, wonderful observation.” 

“You’re a sick sack of shit, Jefferson. Go to hell.” 

“You have three seconds to close your goddamn mouth.”  
“Why don’t you just gag me, huh? Shut me up yourself if you’re so fucking profound, Mr. Secretary.” Alexander spat in livid sarcasm at his infuriating dom, pointing at him as chains jingled.  
“If I gag you, you’ll cum in your pants, Alexander. And I don’t have time to deal with a mess right now. So shut your fucking oversized mouth; I’m working.” 

Alexander snarled and punched the side of the bookcase he was next to for emphasis; the pain shooting through his hand and wrist as he clenched his jaw, seething. Thomas didn’t even look up at the furious display as his quill began scratching calmly, the concentrated man working diligently in intelligent silence. 

The immigrant was fuming with rage, but what could he possibly do? He was chained to a table leg, a motherfucking table leg; the thought infuriated him even more. He shifted heatedly and scooted back towards the wall, leaning stiffly against it and huffed. 

The room was, of course, another architectural marvel. Round and flooded with natural light from tall windows, the library was stock-full of leatherback books packed neatly into the shelves lining the walls, velvet bookmarks hanging out of many like satin tongues. There was a warm smell of old paper and weathered hides, proving that this room was well used by the Jeffersons.  
There were a few tables around the room but at the end, the ornately carved desk was surely reserved for the man of the household. 

Alexander took the time to scowl at him now as he wrote. God, he looked delicious in his glasses, Alexander couldn’t help but think, and shoved the intrusive thought back down. He was too busy hating Thomas to want the man to stand over him, glasses and all, and belt his bruised ass over and over again. 

“I hate you…” Alexander whispered, glowering down at his helpless, chained wrists folded in his lap, the shame pooling heatedly in the pit of his belly. Lust.

“What was that?” Thomas drawled offhandedly from his desk, not pausing from his writing. 

Alex lifted his head slightly.  
“I said I hate you.” spoke up once more, casually. 

Thomas continued his work cooly, dipping his quill in the ink once and proceeded in silence for a moment.  
“The feeling is mutual, Secretary Hamilton.” he finally spoke.

As Alexander looked up for a fleeting second, he could just barely catch a glimpse of a mischievous smirk dancing on Thomas’s cruel lips.  
And then it was gone. 

****

“I told you, you buckled it too tight.”  
“Let me see.”  
“Don’t touch me.”  
“Alexander, roll up your cuffs.” 

“No... Ow!! Thomas!”  
“Stop whining, you pathetic child, Christ just sit still.” 

Thomas leaned across the carriage seat and fingered Alexander’s sleeve, shimmying it up his arm and revealing the raw, irritated skin beneath. 

“See?” Alexander’s brown glare met with Thomas’s as he rolled the cuff back down less-than-gently, rolling his eyes. 

“Oh, grow up. I give you what you deserve, so if you want to blame someone, he’s the one wearing the cheapest coat on the market.”  
“Fuck you and your entire fucking family.”  
“Likewise.” 

Alex flopped back in the seat and crossed his arms over his chest, puffing grumpily as Thomas sat up straight and elegantly crosse his ankles. Fucking pratt. The carriage bumped along the uneven roads, rattling the two politicians inside.

A nagging anticipation had been gnawing away at Alexander’s insides all day leading up to the evening’s event. It was unavoidable and though he tried to stuff it down it would always worm its way up to the surface like a pestering itch.

The Secretary Treasury pulled his smooth wood work-case closer to him protectively on the bench.  
It was amazing how he could feel no hesitation in dropping his pants and spreading his legs for this man, and yet in asking him a simple question he was frustratingly speechless.

The little man pulled at his white cravat with one finger to get some air in; Thomas had made him pull it up so high in order to cover the bite marks and bruises he had marked him as property with.  
Alexander swallowed. 

“Thomas.” He began as firmly as he could manage.  
“That’s my name.” Thomas drawled boredly, still looking out the window as he monotoned.

Alex sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. “How’s this going to work?”

“Could you be slightly more specific?” Thomas sneered offhandedly to the small window. The carriage hit a large bump, jostling Alexander easily. When he had gotten himself back in order, he spoke again.  
“This, the Cabinet meeting, us, how’s it going to work, Thomas?”

The Virginian shifted his hips and finally turned his face towards Alexander reluctantly, neat brown hair framing his handsome face.  
“Well, generally the president calls the defender to the floor, then they talk about politics and things.” Thomas babied his partner sarcastically. 

“Cut the shit, Thomas. How’s this gonna work.” 

The interior of the carriage was silent for a few long moments. The Secretary of State adjusted his hips once again in awkward hesitance, opening his mouth as if to speak and then deciding otherwise.  
The man took a deep breath, returning back to his usual cold, rigid, controlled self and turned towards Alexander. His stone-cold gaze settled against the Treasurer’s. 

“We will go inside separately and you will sit as far away from me as possible. You will not talk to me before or after the meeting while we are in the building. You will make your statement, I will make mine. Neither of us shall hold back on our opinions. You will address me as only Secretary Jefferson.” Thomas’s gaze flickered with fire for a fleeting moment. “After all, you hate me. This should be quite fitting.” 

“Oh don’t pull that bullshit with me.” Alexander spat exasperatedly. Thomas rolled his eyes as if he hadn’t the slightest clue what the immigrant was on about, which infuriated him a degree more.  
“So what, we’re just gonna act like nothing happened despite all this shit?” 

“That’s exactly what we’re going to do, Alexander.” Thomas sneered back, leering closer to the boiling man’s irritated face. 

“You know what? No. No, fuck you.” the Treasurer got all up in Thomas’s face and poked his chest painfully with one finger.  
“Who the fuck said I have to listen to your spoiled ass? I’m gonna go in exactly when you do and sit at the same desk as you and call you whatever the hell I want, goddammit.” 

Thomas’s steely eyes flicked to Alex’s lips and back in a split second. There was a pause.

“And suffer the consequences, Hamilton?” the Virginian murmured lowly, his voice dripping with cruel foreshadow. “Don’t think I’ve forgiven your little stunt so easily, bitch. You think you can derail me from my work, well, oh can I do so much worse to you, boy.” 

Thomas slowly slid closer across the seat, challenging the immigrant who immediately followed suit and accepted.  
“Fucking try me, bastard.” Alex sneered, reaching up to grab Thomas’s cravat in his grip and ball the fabric viciously in his fist, pulling his head close and burning deeply into his eyes. 

“I will make this meeting a living hell for you.” Thomas growled and leaned forward on two hands, forcing Alex to place an arm behind him in order to hold himself up; the two glowered in a fiery standoff.  
“Scared?” Thomas whispered, smirking, drawing so close that his lips ever so lightly brushed Alexander’s quivering ones in a moment of electric feather-light contact.

“Of you?” Alex breathed lividly, hot, moist breath intermingling with Thomas’s as he panted.  
“You wish.” he whispered deathly quiet. 

A moment’s pause while Thomas bore into Alexander, their hearts thudding aggressive symphonies. 

Thomas walked slowly forward on his two hands planted on the cushioned bench, dark seduction in his gaze as he never broke eye contact, but gradually sped up in impatience.

In response, the small man leaned backwards, matching Thomas’s speed until his ruthless pursuit forced Alexander to lay on his back, still clinging roughly to his dom’s cravat and throwing flames with his livid glower. 

Thomas dragged one hand across his belly and up his chest, landing it firmly on Alexander’s soft throat, tilting the immigrant’s head up to look deep into his blazing eyes. Lips still touching, breath still mixing, Thomas squeezed his powerful fingers in a dangerous threat. 

“You’re on…” he hissed into the helpless man’s mouth. 

The Virginian’s tongue pried open Alex’s lips, demanding entry roughly as the Treasurer whimpered a muffled moan.  
Thomas devoured him in brutal ruthlessness, lapping dirtily into his mouth as Alexander opened wide in helpless surrender. 

It was a dark warning for what was about to come…


	22. Virginian's Revenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the Cabinet meeting, Thomas punished Alexander in the cruelest way imaginable... and the little Treasurer loves it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get ready for an intense scene! I really hope you like it ☺️ 🙂Thanks for reading and next chapter soon! <3

Straightening their cravats fussily and smoothing back hair, Alexander and Thomas bashfully thanked Thomas’s driver who had hopefully not heard much of what had become an aggressive makeout session in the backseat. Or how the carriage had rocked when it had stopped at a crossroads from what was definitely not incessant grinding.

Despite Alexander’s most persistent begging and pawing at his enemy’s clothed bulge, his rival had cruelly refused to touch him or undress him in the slightest. It burned Alexander to the core. 

Thomas hopped out of the carriage gracefully onto the kept gravel driveway and closed the door behind him. Shoulders straightened, head high and chin raised, he strolled cooly towards the building, expensive work case swinging at his side.  
The door closed in Alexander’s faced and he yanked it right back open again, growling in frustration as he tumbled out onto the ground, landing clumsily, unlike his insufferable partner. 

“Hey!” Alex called, feet hitting the floor in a puff of dust and stumbling quickly to catch up with his swift-moving agitator.  
“Wait up you fuckwad, I’m in the Cabinet too, you know.” Alex puffed angrily once he had come to his side, long hair already threatening to come free of its ties. 

Thomas gave Alexander a mere sideways glare before looking back ahead and taking the building's steps easily two at time.  
“As of right now you are Secretary Treasury. If you want to follow me around in front of the assembly and look like a fucking fool then you’d better keep up.” He whispered through gritted teeth, opening the door regally and breezing through, Alexander just barely squeezing in before it shut in his face. 

The little man flexed his jaw and jogged for a moment’s boost; he would do whatever the hell he wanted in front of whoever the hell he wanted. If it would distract Jefferson from making a compelling argument, it was fair game for the treasurer. 

“We’re late.” Thomas glanced at the grandfather clock standing resolutely in the rugged lobby. He turned the corner towards where the Cabinet room was, coat buffeting behind him. 

“The fuck do you mean? We’re five minutes early.” Alexander turned the corner and rammed right into Thomas’s back, knocking the wind out of himself. Thomas barely even moved after being body slammed.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Thomas spat, whirling around to his small Cabinet member as Alex put a hand on the wall, panting. He couldn’t do more than scowl at the Secretary of State in his current condition.

“I am aware that you have an insufferable obsession with showing up late for the most important federal assemblies, but the rest of us actually give two shits about the country we’re running, so get this in your head:” Thomas straightened himself up and ran his fingers neatly through his dark hair as he always did.  
“Us real politicians do not come five minutes early.” He growled lowly, pivoting and strolling towards the end of the hallway where the same two guards stood as last time. 

“Mr. Jefferson, sir, please come in, it’s an honor.” they bumbled, splitting a path for him and bowing respectfully. Thomas held his nose as high as ever in the air as he glided into the Cabinet room as if on wheels. 

Alex stood dumbstruck in the hallway, shaking his head in outraged disbelief at this man. This intolerable, pompous, aristocratic sack of shit.  
“Conceited asshole…” Alex grumbled to himself and shook the dust from the hem of his coat, moving to follow Thomas into the Cabinet room. 

The humming sound of many voices filled the tall-windowed assembly room with life. Bodies in expensive coats meandered between those who were standing in small groups chatting or sitting down at the walnut desks in hushed conversation. Some pored over papers. The smell of wig powder and parchment was heavy in the air as the bumbling voices filled the space. 

Upon entering, Alexander raised on his toes above all those heads to spot George Washington at his desk on the raised dais, handsome light hair slicked back against his scalp. He was already writing something quietly despite the buzzing activity in the room. 

Scanning the scene as best he could with his short stature, Alex scoured the men with his eyes, raking the vicinity for a tall head of dark tidy hair. How could such a huge load of shit disappear so quickly? 

“Hamilton.” 

Alex jumped in surprise as a large figure slid in front of him, blocking his path from heading deeper into the room. “Jesus…” he breathed, startled and catching his breath; he wasn’t expecting a sudden encounter.  
Alex finally looked up to evaluate the man and it was quite apparent who this politician was. 

“Burr.”  
Alex tried his hardest not to sneer in disgust. Burr smiled greasily down at him.  
How was the bastard still in the Cabinet room? He’d been invited to the last assembly for a one time chance but he didn’t belong here; he never would. Alex glanced up at the seated Washington then back to Burr again, already annoyed. 

“Alright there, Alexander?” Burr mocked, his sleazy voice raising the hairs on the Treasurer’s neck. Burr took a step closer and Alexander fought the desperate urge to take a step back from this seedy snake; he held his ground. 

“Fine. What’re you doing here?” Alex snapped dryly, not bothering to hide his disdain. 

“Mm, not very friendly.” Burr noted

“Well, not known for being so.”  
There was a silence between the two men as they stared each other down. The taller nodded.

“I owe you my gratitude, Mr. Hamilton.” He began greasily, mischief twinkling in his eyes. The Treasurer pricked with suspicion.  
“Thanks to your little… episode last assembly,” he smiled condescendingly at Alexander who breathed fumed breaths through his nose, “I never got the opportunity to partake in the session. So it is you to thank for my appearance today.” 

Burr, knitted his fingers together and leaned in closer, “My sincerest thanks, Mr. Secretary,” he nodded.  
Alex burned with silent rage, forcing himself to keep staring in Burr’s slimy gaze. What a greasy little weasel…

But Alexander’s breath caught; his eyes spotted a glimpse of a scarlet coat, a dark head of hair. His attention flicked to a spot over Burr’s shoulder where he finally viewed the man he was looking for. 

“Excuse me.” Alexander growled distractedly, far from polite.

“B-” Burr opened his mouth to speak but Alexander had already rudely pushed his way past him and deeper into the room. Sleazy asshole. He hoped he wouldn’t see him again for the rest of the assembly. 

Dodging haphazardly around the Secretary of War and Attorney General walking side by side, Alexander wedged up next to his target.  
Thomas was standing, back to him, near the middle of the room; coat swaying slightly as he shifted onto the other foot, in conversation with someone else. Alex pushed through next to his tall partner. 

“Ehem.” He coughed slightly, trying to get the taller man’s attention. Thomas shifted as if unpleasantly inconvenienced by the sound, and turned his body slightly towards Alexander.  
Their brown eyes met each other for a split second. 

“Secretary Hamilton.” Thomas drawled boredly, unenthusiastically making space for the persistent little man to slide into the conversation. 

“Secretary Jefferson.” he nodded as passive aggressively as possible; Thomas forced a tight smile, restraining himself. There was no way Thomas would put up with this snotty behavior if it was the two of them, but in public the man had no choice, and Alexander was basking in it. 

“Mr. Madison.” Alexander addressed the next man coldly, heart plummeting as soon as his eyes fell on the unfortunate sight. James was only slightly taller than him with slick, long blonde hair and always a handkerchief in his pocket. Always. 

The sickly man dipped his head back to the Treasurer.  
“Secretary Hamilton.” He whispered out, eyes avoiding Alexander’s without budging. He shifted uncomfortably to the other foot, looking up at Thomas and then back to the ground. Something wasn’t right here. Did Madison know something? The immigrant would be able to tell if the man would actually look at him.

The Secretary of State was not about to help Alexander out of this one. He wasn’t hesitant to throw the man right under the carriage.

“Do you need something, Secretary Hamilton?” Thomas drawled in exasperation, Southern twang buried deep down under a well-feigned northern accent.  
Madison finally looked up at Alexander expectantly as the immigrant smiled irritably up at Thomas, “so that’s how you’re gonna play it, huh?” perfectly written on his face. 

As Thomas and Alexander stood each other off awkwardly, James Madison began to cough behind his lips, trying to play it off cooly, but soon brought a fist to his mouth as the fit progressed.  
“May I have a word with you, Mr. Jefferson.” Alexander stated, still keeping his lock on Thomas’s cold, cruel eyes.  
“It appears Mr. Madison needs a moment.”

James was hacking at this point. He nodded in approval as he extracted his handkerchief from his pocket and raised it to his face, tears in his eyes. The aggressors were still locked on each other as Thomas slowly raised an eyebrow as he always did, challenging Alexander. 

“As you wish.” he spoke, impeccable northern accent throwing the Treasurer even further. 

Alex pivoted and shouldered his way through the crowd, making for the more empty side of the room. Thomas followed behind, people seeming to part way for him with ease. 

“Yes?” 

They stopped and Alex whired back around to face Thomas’s smug facade with annoyance.  
“I’ve got questions.” he spat immediately.  
“I’m sure you do, Mr. Hamilton.” Thomas smirked condescendingly, scanning Alexander’s frazzled appearance. This only irritated the man. 

“The fuck is up with you talking to Madison? We made an agreement. Or did that suddenly disappear along with your accent?” Alexander ridiculed. 

“Oh please, Alexander, we made an agreement we would stop our research not our partnership; you ignore that he and I are Democratic Republicans.”  
“You never let me forget that one, Jefferson. Explain why he’s looking at me like that. You’d almost think he ...”  
Alexander latched his gaze with Thomas’s, “Knows something…” 

Thomas did not waver.  
“What are you insinuating?” 

“I’m not insinuating shit; I want to know why that physical embodiment of diphtheria is looking at me like I fucked his wife.”  
“Well with your barbaric tendencies, that may be true.”  
“Cut the shit, Jefferson.” 

“Careful, Alex.” Thomas warned darkly. Disrespecting him would cost the immigrant, Alexander knew that but at this point he didn’t care. 

“Is this my punishment? Huh? Ignoring me, illusive? Is this it?” Alexander took a half step closer, blazing as he interrogated.  
“Cause you’re gonna have to try a lot harder to get me to regret what I did last night.”  
He whispered, as close as Thomas as possible not to draw suspicion from the interior of the room.

The Secretary of State looked down on him, chin in the air. His steely eyes gave away nothing of what was going through his head. 

A loud, sharp banging brought Alexander and Thomas’s attention snapping to the front of the room.  
The buzzing in the room fell silent in hushed anticipation.

George Washington stood behind his desk on the dais, towering resolutely above the Cabinet as his blue eyes scanned the crowd.  
“Gentlemen.” his full voice resounded through the room, “Please take your seats; I call this meeting to order.” He carefully struck the mallet once more as men shuffled and murmured, pulling back seats and rustling papers into place. 

“Wh-” Thomas had turned and taken off, leaving Alex to stumble in pursuit. 

“What is this?” Alexander whispered irritably, pulling back the seat next to his punisher and quietly sitting down.  
Thomas did not look at him. “You want to sit with me, you don’t complain where we sit.” 

They were in the very back row that nobody else had occupied. Just them. 

Alex looked around in suspicion, pulling his briefcase onto the desk and beginning to empty it.  
“No longer concerned about suspicion, eh?” 

Thomas still locked his eyes on the front of the room lazily.  
“I suggest you shut your unfortunately large mouth.” Thomas spoke as the rest of the room finally fell silent. 

Alexander settled back as Washington’s voice filled the room, “May we all welcome Senator Burr to review the minutes of our previous assembly…”  
Burr stood and began his recitation in a boring, monotone voice. 

“SH-it..!” Alexander gasped sharply, unexpectedly choking down his shrill voice into his throat. The little man looked down in complete alarm, to his lap where a sudden burst of friction had spread through his belly like a shockwave. 

What was this? 

“Ahh, Thomas…?” Alexander sputtered out, hissing as quietly as possible as not to draw any attention.  
The Viginian’s hand was resting gently on his belly now… spinning slow, dangerous circles with his index finger. He rhythmically threatened Alexander after he had suddenly reached over and given the immigrant’s clothed cock one long, firm stroke, his expert hand providing just the right amount of friction for maximum pleasure. 

Oh no. 

It came down on Alexander like a bucket of ice water.  
This was his punishment. An eye for an eye. A distraction for a distraction. 

Shit. 

“Thomas?” Alex attempted again, urgency mounting pressingly in his voice as a rush of warm head curled in his belly right under Thomas’s fingers. 

“You did a very bad thing, Alexander.” Thomas whispered so low it was barely audible. His fingers dragged brutally slowly towards Alex’s pants making his skin twitch and tingle.

“You think I wouldn’t fucking do anything about it? You think I’d let you carry on that disrespect? That filthy behavior?”  
Alexander shifted in his seat, trying not to squirm as Thomas’s fingertips slipped under the waistline of his pants. His nails dragged torturously over the sensitive skin right above his cock. 

“Thomas…”  
“You don’t deserve a good beating. You don’t deserve my belt. You’re going to make a fool out of yourself in front of everyone who deems you important. You’re going to show everyone in this room how much of a disgusting, cock-loving, little slut you know you are.” 

The Virginian finally brushed his feather-light fingers over the base of his cock, making Alexander shiver helplessly. Shit shit shit shit…  
Thomas curled his fingers firmly around the base in a strong fist, changing course suddenly, setting Alexander’s nerves on fire. 

“Shit!” He gasped, squeezing his eyes shut and jolting in his seat. 

Aaron Burr stopped talking for a horrifying moment. Glancing over his shoulder towards the back of the room.  
Alex fell quiet. He shoved down the critical urge to cry out as Thomas stroked his cock once and then stopped.  
Burr turned back towards Washington and continued. He couldn’t have seen anything thanks to the front-covered desks, but Alexander’s face, his movement… it was close. 

There was no way he was going to let Thomas win this one. No fucking way in hell. This was another challenge, a dare, another one of Thomas’s sick plans for revenge that the Treasurer would fight to snuff out. And something about the danger of getting caught, the shame, the humiliation… It was not helping his current condition. He squirmed, desperate as a bitch in heat.

In one quick movement, Thomas popped Alexander’s dick out of his pants without exposing anything else but his shaft. It sprang up into the Virginian’s waiting hand, already completely hard. Thomas was not surprised.  
“Already hard? Disgusting, Alexander. Such a dirty, desperate bitch…” He shamed him heartlessly cruel, spitting quietly into his hand and looking around before returning it back to his prize. 

The wetness glistened on his smooth skin as Thomas slowly dragged one dangerous finger up the bottom of his shaft, tracing the route of a prominent, sensitive vein. Alexander’s breath was becoming ragged; was this sustainable? 

He glanced frantically around the Cabinet room. The CABINET room. He was in a federal assembly and he was getting a handjob from his political enemy. This almost seemed like a ludicrous dream that you wake up from and wonder what the fuck you’d eaten before bed, but Alexander knew that it was all too real. Holy fuck.

Aaron Burr’s voice finally concluded and murmurs buzzed through the room quietly as Burr took his seat near the front.  
Alex’s knees jumped apart involuntarily as Thomas held firm for a long, deep, stroke. The little man swallowed a whimper and forced his eyes to Washington instead of devouring the sight of Thomas’s sculpted hand slowly pumping his cock. 

“Thank you, Senator Burr.” Washington dipped his head down to where the Senator had sat, and looked back down at the papers on his desk.  
“Now may I call upon the Secretary of Treasury, Alexander Hamilton to deliver his statement on today’s topic of debate, Secretary Hamilton’s financial plan to assume states’ debts.”

The president scanned the rows, searching for Alex and finally landing on him in the back row with a curious flicker in his blue eyes.  
“Secretary Hamilton, you have the floor, sir.” he addressed him politely, nobly not letting his suspicion be visible after seeing the man Alex was sitting at the same desk as. 

Alexander gulped as the eyes of the Cabinet settled on him, a dozen white wigs turning his way to respectfully listen to the statement of the Secretary they found insufferable but always seemed to need in the end. 

Standing slowly and shakily, Alexander felt as if his legs were going to give out beneath him, they were already weak.  
The desk was tall and Alexander was not, so his midsection was still hidden behind the walnut wood. Should he be grateful for this or was it his doom? 

He pushed his chair back and suddenly almost fell with pleasure as Thomas stroked again.

“Careful, Alexander.” Thomas muttered amusedly, “Someone might think you’re up to something naughty…”  
Alexander breathed a shaky breath, running his fingers through his hair as composed as possible as Thomas stroked him in a steady rhythm, too soft for him to hit a climax at this pace but too firm to not make him need to squirm. 

This was torture. He didn’t know if he could take it. It was brutal, cruel torture.  
But the little man was determined. 

“Mr. President,” Alex sputtered out, too uncomposed to be unnoticeable. He looked around the room and coughed, starting again, “Mr. President. As a Federal Government, it is the responsibility of the men in this room to protect the general welfare of our citizens. All of them. It is common knowledge that the North is in debt following the honorable war for our indepe-…” 

His voice tapered off as Thomas hit a particularly sensitive pace, picking up speed by the slightest degree. Alex blinked lightly, fluttering his eyelids and looking down to take a gulp of air. 

“Independence.” He finished the word.  
“The argument that the South’s debts are paid due to a more efficient economy is- SHIT!” 

His voice rang through the room embarrassingly loudly. Some of the men jolted a bit in their seats.  
Thomas had sped up for three impossibly fast strokes and then stopped altogether, folding his hand daintily back in his lap. Alex could just barely see him out of the corner of his eye, holding back a delighted smirk. 

There was an agonizing pause.

President Washington sighed and looked up from his papers. “Secretary Hamilton, I will ask you once again to refrain from using profane language when referring to the South’s economy.” he monotoned exasperatedly, returning to his notes.

“Yes sir.” Alex complied, relieved. He continued, humiliated, “The debts of our Southern states have been paid because they have the convenient advantage in that they do not pay for labor. Through the shameful practice of human slavery, it has allowed the South to emerge unscathed from war when their brothers to the north struggle simply because we do not partake in crimes against humanity.” Alexander looked around the room. 

“So, If we assume the… If we assu-...” Alexander swayed slightly as Thomas’s hand returned to Alexander’s throbbing cock, now pumping it faster and faster as if he was trying to jerk the cum right out of it by force. 

“Please continue, Secretary Hamilton.” Washington looked over at him concernedly and tapped his quill in annoyance. 

“If we assume the gets the union debts… No, sorry, if we assume the debts the UNION-!”  
Alexander squeezed his eyes shut as Thomas’s wet thumb brushed over his sensitive tip, making him gasp. He blinked and breathed, trying to reinstate his composure. It felt so impossibly good… pleasure surged from the tip all the way down his shaft.

The Cabinet looked at each other then at him curiously. God this was mortifying, God, this was perfect. 

“S-Sorry… if we assume the debts the union gets a new line of credit for war reparation to… to…”  
Alexander’s eyes fought desperately to stay in place as he rocked on the verge of an orgasm, he could feel it brewing sharply in his belly. Holy shit… in front of the whole Cabinet… 

“Secretary Hamilton, are you quite well?” Washington’s voice was spiked with an edge of irritation.  
“I…I... - president Washingman- Washington” 

“You have ten seconds left for your statement and if you have nothing of substance left to declare I am going to request that you take a seat, Mr. Hamilton.”  
Washington declared firmly, strict disappointment in his tone. The rest of the Cabinet stared on nakedly at Alexander, shocked and expectant. 

The little man crossed his knees desperately, trying to force down the inevitable orgasm building up heatedly between his legs.  
“Thank you for your statement, Secretary Hamilton, but your time is finished, you may sit down if you so please.” the President shook his head in disapproval, writing down som last notes as the entire Cabinet began to murmur. Oh God… the humiliation, the shame. 

The assembly fell into a period of note taking and gentle talking before they would hear the next statement. 

Thomas’s strong hand pumped him in a furiously fast rhythm as he slowly lowered down into his seat, leaning back into it and trying to contain his quivering legs, smashing his knees together.  
Thomas hummed in sick amusement, “How does that feel, hmm? Are you humiliated?” he drawled filthily to Alexander who clenched the sides of the seat with white knuckles, panting uncontrollably. Yes, yes yes...  
Thomas smirked, “No matter how hard you try you’re going to cum in front of everyone. I can see it in your face. It’s too late. You have to cum, baby?” He purred. 

Alex clenched his jaw furiously, gritting his teeth in desperation. He could feel it about to happen.  
“Thomas-... I’m gonna… I’m gonna…!” He hissed head dropping to his chest. He was using every last ounce of restraint in his body not to scream. 

This was Thomas’s cue; in one swift movement, he pulled Alexander’s pants over his cock, clothing it once again as the little man squirted out his release. 

“Ohhh…” Alexander gripped the chair so hard his nails dug little cuts in the sides, his head rolled back and his back arched as much as it could in this position. He cummed helplessly into the fabric, leaving a stain that would prove hard to hide…  
“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Fuck…” He panted incoherently, heart racing in ecstasy as his mind floated in a word of nothing but mortified pleasure, an emotion he was unaware existed. 

Thighs twitching defenselessly, Alexander swallowed the powerful need to whimper, to scream, anything...

He hadn’t even come back down from his body-rocking orgasm when he noticed Thomas had been asked to stand and was already making his statement. 

Shit… So this is how the bastard would play it, huh?  
It seemed a whole new level of cruelty... How could Alexander love it so much?  
He looked down at his lap, gingerly touching the spot with his shaky fingers. It was wet and not going to dry in time for the meeting to be over. That wicked fucking bastard… 

Alexander looked up at the standing Thomas Jefferson, his gaze still blurry and cock-drunk. The man’s words slowly started to process in Alexander’s head, sentence by sentence. 

Alexander watched helplessly from his seated position at the desk as Thomas tackled the Treasurer’s points one by one one and struck them down. His eloquent wording was lethal against Alexander’s it was a lost cause for the immigrant. 

As Thomas concluded and cooly, collectedly sat back down, he gave poor Alex a side glance as Washington and the rest of the Cabinet continued taking notes furiously.  
“How does it feel, Alexander?” Thomas mocked, raising a dark eyebrow coldly. 

Alex shook his head. “I hate you so much…” he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, stripping off his coat to put it in his lap over the stain; the Cabinet was about to be dismissed.  
“Color?” Thomas demanded firmly as Alex yanked the coat over his lap in anger.  
“Green…” the little man replied frustratedly, scowling down in livid hatred at his coat. 

He was furious, but there was no question that he had relished this.  
There was a pause as Washington called the meeting to a close, Alexander’s fuming face growing redder by the second. 

Thomas chuckled cruelly at the little man’s hopeless condition. He leaned in slightly, “Have fun trying to cover up that cum stain, you filthy whore.” he breathed, spitting the last words with disgusting emphasis. 

“Let today serve as a lesson for you, Alexander…” he whispered, straightening his cuffs and grasping the handle of his briefcase, his movements were all-business. 

The Secretary of State stood gracefully, pushing in his chair with one hand, looking as if he was about to walk off casually.  
He suddenly leaned in impossibly close to Alexander who gasped sharply in surprise; Thomas gripped the back of Alex's chair. 

“Daddy… is. In. Charge.” 

Every dirty word rustled the immigrant’s hair with warm breath.  
And with a whirl of expensive fabric, Thomas was walking out of the Cabinet room, shoulders rounded, chin as high in the air as ever.


	23. Drunk in New York City

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a tumultuous Cabinet meeting, Alexander goes to the tavern with his friends to take his mind off the incident. After getting quite drunk, he encounters Burr who has a disturbing warning for him, causing a fight at the bar. After getting kicked out and walking home with Laurens, a rift between the two friends becomes apparent and the reason for Alexander's fear of Burr's threat becomes clear...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter soon! Thank you so much for reading, loves! <3

Alexander dismounted his carriage in front of the tavern, the starry blanket of night settling comfortably over bustling, noisy New York City. 

As soon as he had gotten out of the assembly building, he had scrambled to a carriage to get home and change his clothes; Thomas had set him up for the most tedious route of humiliation until then, however. His escape had not been easy. 

Thomas had disappeared without a trace, taking Madison with him and strolling off, smug chin in the air, leaving Alexander sitting in the Cabinet room completely and utterly exposed and helpless. Of course, as soon as the room had emptied and Alexander was trying to hobble out with his balled up coat in front of his pants, Washington intervened. 

Recounting the events as he crunched towards the tavern, straightening his cravat, brought him an uncomfortable shiver. It was the most humiliating scolding of his life. 

Washington sat him down at his raised desk to bash him repeatedly on his wildly unacceptable behavior, drilling him for why on earth he was stuttering and tripping over his own tongue like a blubbering hoodlum.   
Alexander’s excuse was illness, but Washington accused him of being drunk on the job which, of course, seemed like it could be valid now that he thought about it... Alexander talked his way out of Cabinet suspension like he always did, but to make matters worse, Washington had made him put his coat on the entire meeting, declaring how improper it was to talk to a president with a shirt and waistcoat. The little immigrant had to lean forwards the whole time and put his hands in his lap, desperately trying to cover the damage that Thomas had forced him into. 

“Bastard… That filthy bastard.” Alex shook his head in angry disbelief as he pulled open the door, bell ringing as he entered. 

He was surrounded and engulfed in the familiar sounds of the tavern, the scraping of knives on plates and the clinking of glasses followed by cheers, the crackling of fireplaces and groans of chairs being pulled back, and the voices and bursting laughter of men, both drunk and sober. 

The whole place was filled with its usual gentle, warm lighting from the fireplaces and well-melted table candles, great towers of dripping wax around the bases. The faded old paintings on the walls gave it a cozy feel just like the enormous bear-pelt rugs that decorated the floors.   
The smell of a fat, juicy, smoking roast beef enveloped the space. 

“Oi! Hamilton!” a waiter from the inexpensive but extremely well-stocked bar called. Alex turned his head to see his most trusted waiter, a kid about a year younger than him, Samuel. The blonde lad had a British accent and a neckerchief tied around his neck, always. He was cleaning a glass. 

“Sam! Business alright tonight?” Alex called over the hubbub. 

The boy nodded enthusiastically, “Yeh, all thanks to your buddies over there; they’d buy out the whole stock if some’un didn’t stop em. Keep’en us in rent for a year I’d say!”   
“Ah, the bastards.” Alex shook his head, amused, “Usual table?” 

“Nowhere, else sire.”   
Alex tossed him a coin affectionately as he headed off, weaving between bodies and tables towards where his friends always dwelled. 

Already in a better mood, his spirits lifted further as his companions came into sight.   
“Hamiltonnnn!” They chorused loudly when they noted his appearance, immediately shifting to drag up another chair to the worn and notched table.   
Alex opened his arms wide in a “here I am” gesture and slid into his seat, Lafayette and Hercules slapping him on the back. 

“Ahhh so ze immigrant bombed anozer Cabeenet meeting, oui?” Lafayette slandered Alex between laughs as he sat down. 

Alex furrowed his brows, perplexed as Laurens quietly took a swig of his whiskey. “Wait, what? How’d you guys know that?”   
Hercules leaned back, “Burr’s here a coupla minutes ago. He’s sitting with a buddy at the bar now but he came and told us everything.” 

The little man’s heart plummeted into his stomach with a cold rush of unpleasant dread. A bitter taste filled his mouth as his head whipped to cast a glance at the bar. Sure enough the back of Burr’s greasy head was bobbing between some other men. 

“Burr told you?” He repeated, trying to choke down his disgusted sneer.  
“Yeah, man. Said you totally blew.”   
“What happened?” 

Alex held up a hand to silence Herc and Lafayette, “Look, I appreciate the curiosity guys but today’s been a total shitshow and I really just need to get wasted.” He looked around, trying to shake off the clinging, creeping feeling of Burr in the same room, “Where’s Sam, I gotta get myself some whiskey, stat.” 

Alex was starving to take his mind off of the whole ordeal as he got Sam’s attention to bring him three glasses of liquor to begin his hopefully-forgettable night. 

“Shit, Alexander, trying to wipe your memory all the way back to this spring?” Laurens snorted. Oddly, Alex couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or actually criticizing for some reason.   
“Hey, I’d be fine with that too.” Alex sighed, raising one glass over the table. 

“To you fuckwads.” he breathed in false emotion, looking each one of them in the eyes, “And your massive asshole-ery.” Hercules wiped an imaginary tear away as they all drank, Alexander tipping his head back and downing the entire glass of liquid. 

He smacked it back down on the table when he was finished; blinking quickly.   
He puffed out a breath. “Fuck.” Alex shook his head, slightly dizzy, a smile spreading on his face. “Let’s keep them coming.” 

The second glass went down quickly and the third followed soon after. As the friends jested into the night, Alexander’s head was beginning to fill with the warm, pleasant buzz of alcohol, the drunken bliss. His troubles began to float away as the candles and hubbub of the tavern carried into the night.   
So very pleasant… why was he worried anyhow? He’d made his argument through some difficulty, and Thomas didn’t even make it that hard. 

He snorted lazily at the bad pun he’d accidentally made and took another sip of his whiskey. 

Over the top of his glass he could se John leaning back in his seat. Was he looking at him? Alex squinted and tried to focus.   
Yes, he was. He was giving him the same odd little stare he’d been giving him the whole night. Alex refocused his shifting vision once again. 

“You ‘right John?” He spoke, tongue a bit heavy. Laurens crossed his arms and shifted a bit in his seat, looking around and then back to Alex.

“Why do you ask?” he evaded the question. Alexander set his glass back on the table and held down a belch. 

“Dunno, your face just look like you stuck your dick in a grinding mill, man.”   
John nodded slowly, humming. 

“Well…” he smiled and placed his hands on the table, looking right at Alexander. “I never put my dick where it doesn’t belong, Ham.” John nodded silently. 

There was a long silence as Lafayette and Hercules had listened in on the conversation and clearly picked up something that Alexander hadn’t. His fuzzy, tipsy, turning mind was trying to piece together what John was trying to say, but at this point he could only mash together vague ideas. He reached gingerly forward for his glass, missed, and grasped it again on the second try. Shit, he was drunk. 

Laurens watched him the entire time, eyes tracking his every movement. Alex suddenly decided not to take another sip; he had to go get some air and clear his head. The need to escape unexpectedly became more urgent.   
“Aight, I need to take a piss.” He grunted, leaning forward laboriously to push his chair back and stand. 

John snorted as the chair scraped. “Of course you do, you’re piss drunk.” 

“First of all, I’m not drunk.” the small man stood and immediately swayed violently to the left, being caught by Lafayette.   
He held up a finger and laughed, “And second of all… I’m not drunk.” 

Hercules laughed and took a swig from his own glass. “Get your bum-ass to the outhouse, you’re not back in ten we’ll just assume you kicked the bucket.” 

“‘Preciate it!” Alex called over his shoulder as he veered sharply into a table corner. 

**

Walking out of the bathroom, a great relief, he opened the creaky peeling door of the outhouse to go back to the tavern. He wanted the walk across the small back-lawn to be quick because the Caribbean man was already chilly, but if he walked fast he’d probably veer into a wall and kill himself.   
He’d lost track of how many glasses he’d downed… had he ever been this drunk?

His mind spun as he opened the rusty-hinged door and walked out. But he ran directly into a large-bodied, towering, dark figure.

He grunted on impact and jumped back, grasping the handle of the door for support. The little man’s heart was racing with startled surprise and booze.   
“Wh- fucking watch where you’re going!” Alex spat at the stranger.

“Ahh, Alexander.” the slimy, creepy voice made the hairs on Alex’s neck raise uncomfortably. His stomach lurched with dread. Burr…

The immigrant tried to take a deep breath to conceal his drunken state. Shit.  
“It’s Secretary Hamilton, if you please.” He sneered coldly, trying to make a move around Burr and hightail it out of this situation. 

Burr took a step forth into the candlelight by the outhouse, blocking Alex’s way. Just by the looks of him he was not drunk, the small man observed. This was not good. Fuck. What would he say? Who knows what his loosened tongue would let slip…

“Having a good evening, Hamilton?” the man purred. Alex grimaced.   
“Was.”

Burr seemed to ignore his retort as he continued. “Good, good.” he nodded, “Glad to hear that, I thought you would be groveling and ruminating after your little… display today.” He smiled condescendingly.  
“How encouraging to know that instead of writing like your life depends on it you’re…” Burr leaned in and took a subtle sniff, hinting obviously at the strong scent of whiskey, “drunk.” 

Alex took a step forward, shocked at the blatant offense by this… weasel. Burr did not step back from the immigrant’s abrupt, drunken display, simply stood and stared down on Alexander carefully, calculatively, undoubtedly up to something. 

“The fuck do you want, Burr? Get off my ass.” Alex spat in rage, at a complete loss as to why the man was pestering him like this. So uncalled for.   
Burr interlaced his fingers in front of him calmly, “So quick to anger.” he observed.   
For some reason those words jolted something deep in his chest. Angry and confused, he tried once more to push past Burr. The tall man simply stepped in his way. 

“Alexander, I have questions for you.” Burr sneered greasily. 

“Tough shit, this isn’t an interview.” 

“Why can’t you seem to finish a sentence in meetings this month?” 

“Get the fuck out of my way, I don’t have to answer diddly damn shit to a- what are you again- senator?” Alex mocked, furrowing his brows and swaying onto his left foot,   
“Yeah, Burr. Don’t mock me for anything when you had to had to suck Washington’s star spangled dick to be able to fucking recite the minutes in one Cabinet meeting.” Alex laughed angrily. 

Burr stood silently, arms crossed, looking down on Alexander.  
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” The Treasurer sneered. 

“Why were you sitting next to Jefferson?” 

Alexander’s heart plummeted into his stomach.   
“What?” He sputtered, knowing he had given something away by his lack of control of his expressions. 

“Ahhh.” Burr hummed in satisfaction. “Hesitation?” he noted. 

“Our agreement has nothing to do with you, fuckwad.” Alex snarled, “Go fuck yourself in the middle of Mainstreet.” 

“Agreement?”   
There was a deadly silence in the night. You could hear a pin drop. It felt almost like the crickets and bustling city traffic had stopped at the enemies' words.   
Burr raised a greasy eyebrow, knowing he had just caught on to a piece of useful information. 

Fuck. 

Alexander cursed himself and his loose, drunk tongue for not thinking. Why was he not thinking? He couldn’t think. Now he was in danger and he knew it. Did Burr know he had caught on to something far more dangerous than he could imagine? 

Alex moved his heavy, buzzing lips but no words formed, only a sputtering, gaping noise. 

Burr rolled his eyes and uncrossed his arms.   
“Alright, Hamilton, alright.” He breathed quietly, staring down in sobriety. 

“Clearly you are too disgustingly intoxicated to put together any coherent sentence.” Burr sneered sleazily, “So allow me to do the talking, if you will.” he feigned politeness, suddenly growing very serious and looking right down into Alexander’s eyes, raking the deep brown as his face darkened. 

“I’m on your tail, Alexander. I’m breathing down your neck. You're right where I want you...” Burr breathed darkly, nasty breath brushing Alex’s face.   
“I’m indecisive? Reticent? Hmm.” he smiled grotesquely, “only because you keep me out of the room, Hamilton. You’ve kept me out of the room my whole life and now…” His contorted smile deepened, “It’s over.” 

Chills ran down the Treasurers spine as he tried to break eye contact but couldn’t. 

“All the time I’ve spent on the sidelines looking in, you don’t think I’ve acquired any skills, Hamilton?" He laughed, "I hear everything. I see everything. And just when you don’t want me to know something, I’m everywhere.” He breathed each individual word. Alex had to get out of there. Now. 

“And I’m onto you, Hamilton. I don’t know what game you and Jefferson are playing at but I will. Mark my words; and when I do everything will be over for you. It’s only a matter of time, Hamilton. Count the seconds.” Burr leaned in slowly, blue eyes impossible to escape, his whole being closing in on Alex who’s heart was hammering. 

“I’m breathing down your neck.” Burr whispered, trapping Alexander. 

“Can you feel me?” 

The panic bubbled over in Alexander’s wide eyes as he shot both hands forwards, pushing Burr’s chest away from him.

“You’re crazy!” Alex slurred loudly, hopping around the tall man and speed-walking as quickly and briskly as he could away from the creeping senator, struggling not to stumble, head pounding as he reached the weathered door of the tavern and yanked it open, desperate to get inside. 

This was ridiculous, fucking ridiculous. Frightened of Burr? Running from Burr? Burr? Why? His head was spinning because he wasn’t frightened for himself, no. What was he frightened for, then? He felt a tugging in the pit of his stomach, an inexplicable, heavy nag. 

He stepped onto the wooden floor of the tavern, warm light flooding his eyes and the sound of the old piano that someone had started to play. 

“We’re not finished yet, Mr. Secretary.” Burr had followed him in and sounded less insane now, but Alex needed to get away from that putrid little worm.   
Burr snagged his arm from behind him, yanking him to a stop near the middle of the tavern. 

Alex whirled around. “I said, we’re not finished yet.” Burr hissed greasily.   
Alex jerked his arm free and shoved him in the chest once again, “Yeah, well I am.” he slurred. 

Burr took a step back from the impact and shoved Alexander in the same way, tempers began to gradually simmer to a boil.   
The drunken little man stumbled back further, swaying due to his intoxication and tripping over his own feet, crashing and falling messily right onto someone else’s table. The men jumped up as the table came crashing down noisily, a woman shrieked in shock. 

Alexander could barely hear any of it, grunting, he tried laboriously to stand from the rubble and as soon as he was on his feet, charged drunkenly back at Burr with a strangled battle cry.   
From the usual table a few feet away, John, Lafayette, and Hercules leaped up all at once from the noise of shattering plates and yells. 

The Senator made an “oof!” sound as the little man thudded into his waist, sending them both careening over the bar counter, knocking bottles over which shattered to the ground chaotically.   
The men snarled as they wrestled each other. 

“Hey! break it up, boys!” a waiter boomed loudly, moving towards the politicians angrily. The pianist had stopped playing.  
Lafayette, Hercules and John jumped in too, helping the waiter rip the aggressors apart and hold them back from each other, but soon it was found that only Alex needed to be held back like a wild animal, Burr was calm and collected. 

Brushing off his coat, Burr stood cooly apart from the frenzy; Alex struggling and writhing to get free and charge again. 

The livid immigrant only heard snippets of what happened next, his head was spinning at such a nauseating pace.   
The rotund, sweaty owner of the tavern came out and Laurens did all the talking (“he’s just drunk.” “So sorry.” “I’ll take him home, we won’t be any trouble.”). 

And before Alex quite knew what was happening, he was ushered out the door into the cool dark night, looking back over his shoulder at the unmoving, looming Burr as if through a window…

**

John and Alexander had walked for maybe ten minutes in the city night; it was hard for Alex to judge time very accurately at the moment. As the two best friends walked in complete and utter silence, the immigrant’s head buzzed with thoughts. 

He could almost feel the rift between the two of them, almost see it. Now that he thought about it, it had been there all night. Why was it there? As their feet thumped on the bustling road, the sound around them didn’t matter when between them there was such silence. 

Sober Alexander would have waited longer, analyzed. Come up with something more clever to say, but he had no room for that sort of judgement now. Shaking his head to futilely clear it up, he spoke.

“Look, John, I don’t know why you’ve been weird to me all night, but what’s up?” Alex drawled. There was a minute’s silence as they walked. 

Then, John sighed. “You’re asking what’s up with me? You got in a bar fight, Hams.” he reminded reasonably, “We should be talking about you. What happened at the assembly, how did you get in a scuffle with Burr?” he threw his hands up exasperatedly, fully knowing he wouldn’t get an answer. “Whatever.” He breathed, dropping his arms.

Alex bowed his head to watch his shoes in silence. They walked.

“Look,” John sighed suddenly, stopping Alexander with a hand and turning to him, forcing his eyes up to his, “I just thought you’d be honest with the guys. Tell them what’s going on… Tell em yourself.” 

It took a moment before Alexander finally understood. He gaped.  
“You mean the… affair.” He whispered the last word in embarrassment. John nodded, sticking his hands in his pockets. 

“John.” Alex scoffed, laughing incredulously, “I can’t just go around telling everyone about a fucking affair.” 

Laurens furrowed his eyebrows and blinked, taken aback by his harsh address.   
“‘Everyone’? We’re your friends Alexander. What, you think we’re not trustworthy enough?” John halfway sneered at him. 

“No, I never said that, look.” Alex gestured at himself grandly, “IF it somehow got out, I’d be ruined. The Democratic Republicans-”   
“I get it, Alexander.” John scoffed lifting a hand to silence him. 

“No, really, Washington would be forced to-”   
“I get. It.” John annunciated once again, looking Alexander up and down calculatively. “It’s about you.” 

There was a tense pause. 

“What?”

“It’s about you. It’s always about you. Your job, your legacy, your Treasury. You.”   
“John… what’re you talking about?” 

Laurens shifted from one foot to the other, trying to figure out how to put his words, then looking back into Alex’s eyes again. “Alex, I love you man. You’re my best friend, always have been. But if you won't trust us, what are we supposed to do? Follow blindly?” 

Alex swayed, trying to wrap his head around this argument. This was not the time to be having it. Not at all.  
“Well yeah, it’s not like any of you are the Secretary Treasurer. I tell anyone I’ll be ruined, you don’t know what that’s like.” 

John stared at him silently for several long, drawn out moments. Was he gaping? A carriage went by on the road quietly. Alex tried to think back to his words, had he said something?   
Oh.   
Oh shit.

“Oh, John, I-” He tried to speak but was cut off.

“I think you should head home now, Alexander.” 

“Really, please, let me just say-”  
“I think you’ve said enough. It's fine; I get it.” John crossed his arms and looked down at the ground. The stood in awkward silence for a drawn out period of time. 

Alex wanted to say something, anything, but he knew whatever he would say would somehow make everything worse. He tried to speak but no words came out.   
Trying to take a step towards John, he swayed violently and caught himself on the side of a faded wall. 

John looked him up and down, his emotions indiscernible on his cold face; everything was impossibly blurry. 

“Go home, Alex. I’ll see you around.” He spoke dryly and softly, turning on his heel and heading back in the other direction. 

“John…” Alex croaked out as his friends boots padded on the road, the hem of his coat fluttering in the breeze.   
“John!” He punctuated louder. But there was no response as his friend, his best friend, walked away from him, head down, disappearing into the deep traffic of a New York City night…

**

Alex unlocked the door and walked in, throwing the jangling keys on the dining room table carelessly. Staggering to the living room, he barely made it to the couch before flopping down in drunken exhaustion, head spinning a million miles per hour. 

The events of the night were already becoming mixed up and vague in his mind. The Cabinet meeting, John…   
Burr…

His heart panged as he thought of how his friend had walked away from him in such disappointment. Why?

And Burr.. 

Alex breathed, cupping his hands over his face and rubbing slowly. Why had he gotten in a fight with him, again? What had he said?   
It was all becoming so distorted as Alex beat his slow mind into motion. 

It slowly seeped back in; Burr had threatened him, he realized. He had threatened him blatantly.  
Alexander dragged his hands down his face and folded them on his belly, staring up at the white ceiling. A patch of moonlight painted it from the window, reminding him of someplace. It was so quiet.

He wasn’t afraid. He wasn’t afraid of Burr, or for himself; the bastard couldn’t touch him; he was nothing, a nobody. 

Then why was he so worried? A heavy, cold, tug weighed down in the pit of his stomach. Rolling over onto his stomach laboriously didn’t help. 

Alexander closed his eyes, allowing the velvety black to envelop him…

And then it hit him.

His eyes snapped back open, his breath caught painfully in his throat. 

The little immigrant sat up on his elbows restlessly and thought; the more he remembered, the deeper his head sank into his palms. 

He had told Burr that he was in an agreement with Jefferson. No details, nothing, but he had said it and now Burr knew there was something to dig for. There was blood in the water and Burr was on the hunt. Alexander had left a trail in the woods and now there was no way to hide it. 

Alexander thought back to what John had said.  
“It’s about you, Alexander. It’s always about you.” 

But as the Treasurer stiffly rolled onto his back, body aching and throbbing from the fight and head pounding with whiskey, it was not about him.   
As he stared up at the moonlight patch, coldly painting the ceiling, he did not fear for himself.   
One name rang through his head, the only thing that was clear. 

Thomas.   
He feared for Thomas.


	24. Forbidden Fruits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas stops by Alexander's to do what he desires with his little pet, but is shocked to find him in his drunk state. Alexander misbehaves several times as Thomas forces him to clean up and go to sleep. But as they are about to drift off, Alexander says something that could change everything...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned for next chapter! Thank you so much for commenting and reading! Lots of love! <3

“I still don’t see why you want to walk in the city so late at night. Especially this area.”  
“If you’ve walked here before you’d see it has its charms.” 

James took a moment to consider.  
“As do all places. Fair point. I would ask to join you but…”  
“No worries, James. Perhaps another time.” 

Thomas intervened, sparing Madison the embarrassment of talking about his sickly nature on this cool night, August having come in chilly this year. 

The two politicians were sharing one of Madison’s personal carriages; it had a lush interior, the finest driver, and two of the most well-bred horses to draw the masterpiece behind them. After the Cabinet meeting, Thomas had swept James out of the room, finding himself in a particularly good mood. Of course, only Thomas himself knew the reason for his high spirits. 

Taking James’s carriage they had gone for a dinner in the city at the finest restaurant around, Lionne, and dined on only the most exquisite dishes. The place was pristine and high-class, a string quartet had played in the gentle candlelight that glinted off the golden cutlery. 

And throughout the entire dinner Thomas could barely pay attention to what James was saying. It started out easy but grew more difficult as time passed.  
Alexander Hamilton possessed his thoughts. Even when he wasn’t around he was insufferably bothersome. 

He couldn't help but dwell on the way the little man had been forced to give into submission, helplessly arching his back and digging his nails into the chair in excruciating need to scream. Remembering exactly how he had clenched his knees together as he stood, desperately struggling to keep the inevitable orgasm down. 

Thomas had been relieved when the final course was over, Madison having finally finished his souffle. The blonde man had given him some grief for rushing out, but Thomas promised he wouldn’t have to deal with him all the way home; he’d hop out for a walk downtown. 

The Virginian almost sneered at the thought of himself walking downtown and getting his expensive shoes tarnished in the dirty streets. As the carriage slowed to a stop and Thomas bid goodnight to his fellow Democratic Republican, he had only one thing on his mind while dismounting the coach, work-case in hand. Alexander.

The handsome bay horses tossed their heads as he thanked the driver and headed off down the block, only one street to go before he could be knocking on Alexander’s door. A late night booty-call, Thomas noted loftily.

The little man wouldn’t protest to that sort of treatment, Thomas knew. He was his slut, he was at his disposal and he could come to him whenever he wanted because the needy little nuisance would devour any chance to get nailed, willingly. 

Now, if Alexander had come to Thomas in this manner, it would not be tolerated. Disrespect like that was unthinkable, and he wouldn’t give Alexander the slightest taste of satisfaction for behavior of that sort.  
Bad boy.

Chuckling in self-satisfaction, he thudded up the steps of Alexander’s house.

The windows were dark, he noticed first. Furrowing his eyebrows in skepticism, he approached closer to the door for a listen. The inside of the house was silent as well. 

Stepping forth, he rapped on the door powerfully listening for any movement. After a prolonged period of silence, he was about to bang once again before he heard a disturbance from inside. There was a clinking noise, like glass, followed shortly by uneven, out of beat thumps.  
A large thud made Thomas jolt, but before he could react, the door was swung open haphazardly. 

“Thomasss.” 

The Virginian’s jaw dropped. 

Alexander stood before him, leaning heavily on the open door for support, arms open in wide welcome. And he was a disgrace.

He wore no shoes or coat, his waistcoat was completely unbuttoned and hanging loose; his shirt was ruffled. The little man’s hair was down and it fell over his shoulders; in one hand he held a bottle of cheap whiskey that had only a quarter of golden contents left. 

But the most startling sight was the blooming, purple, black-eye that flowered on the right side of his face.  
Alex tried to stand straight but simply swayed to the other side of the door, laughing softly. 

Thomas didn’t gape for a second more.  
“Alexander Hamilton…” he breathed in disbelief, “What the fuck are you doing?” 

Alex looked up at him stupidly, “You, hopefully. Fuck, you look hot… did ya bring Madison, he can join us if he is so inclined…” the man slurred, winking at Thomas. 

The Secretary of State ran a hand through his hair, this was ridiculous. He was drunk, so incredibly, disgustingly drunk. 

“Watch your FILTHY mouth, Hamilton.” Thomas spat, a shot of anger searing through his chest at the mention of another man. Jealousy… 

“Oooh… NOT very friendly…” Alex jeered, lurching forward in an attempt to approach Thomas but swerved sharply to the right, towards the edge of the porch. 

He would’ve careened over the edge if Thomas hadn’t leapt to catch him, snagging him by the waist and holding him standing as the little man giggled and hiccuped. 

Thomas looked down at him, disgusted, seizing his hair brutally.  
“Filthy drunk, how much have you drank tonight?” he sneered. 

Alexander hiccuped, putting the bottle to his lips once more. “Not enough!” he laughed, breath smelling sharply of whiskey as he tilted his head back.  
“Put that down!” Thomas commanded sharply, yanking the bottle from Alexander’s hands. The vaguely disgruntled man groped around for the bottle, climbing all over Thomas to try and get it back.  
But the movement was too much for his stomach. 

Turning his head to the side, Alex heaved abruptly and retched the contents of his body onto the porch. 

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Thomas growled in surprise, manipulating the man to the side of the porch hastily and expertly shoving him down to his knees. Thomas bent over and collected Alexander’s hair into one fist, holding it back as he vomited over the edge of the porch. It didn’t last too long, but long enough for Thomas to make his decision. 

The little man coughed and sputtered, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and coughed again.  
“Shit…” he managed feebly. 

“Alright, that’s fucking it.” Thomas sighed firmly, letting go of his hair. “We’re going inside. Right. Now. And you’re giving me a fucking explanation; I don’t know what the hell’s gotten into you.”  
Thomas declared sternly, thick accent coming through as he made his commands. 

Alex didn’t move, just stayed on his hands and knees and breathed. 

“Get up.” Thomas commanded icily. There was no response. 

He rolled his eyes in engine exasperation and yanked Alex to his feet by the scruff of his neck, grumbling at this whole situation. This isn’t why he had come; this wasn’t how tonight was supposed to go. Alex stumbled violently and grunted beside his handler as Thomas dragged him through the threshold into the house.

Thomas was supposed to have the Cabinet meeting of his life, eat the most refined dinner with an important associate, and then come to Alexander’s as he pleased and do what he desired with the man. Tie him to the staircase and fuck him senseless, take him home and do what he willed there, whatever it would be, it was not supposed to be... this! 

Dragging around a drunken child that couldn’t even stand on his feet without his help… He was entitled to more than this servant’s work! He didn’t have to deal with this shit; he could leave the immigrant wasted on the couch if he had no use for him. Thomas huffed in aristocratic frustration. How fucking uncivilized and burdensome. 

And yet once he had dumped Alexander emotionlessly on the couch... he still stayed. 

“Sit up, goddamnit.” He sneered in disgust at the little man, who took two tries to sit up and lean back on the couch.

“Don’t move.” Thomas ordered, moving into the kitchen and out of sight. 

Alexander sat in silence, thoughts almost completely incoherent at this point. Before Thomas had come, he had pulled out a bottle of his own after contemplating Burr’s threat. He couldn’t shove down the notion that his little slip put Thomas in danger… He shouldn’t feel guilty, he WANTED Thomas destroyed. Yet when he was wasted it was Thomas that showed up… Maybe it was the alcohol doing the thinking at this point. 

Thomas returned to the room after a minute, tall glass of water in his hand.  
“Drink.” he placed the glass into Alex’s haphazard grasp and skirted the living room table to a plush chair. 

Gingerly, as to touch as little of the chair as possible, Thomas sat himself down in dainty loftiness. Looking over at Alexander, he crossed his legs in a princely manner.

“When is the last time you had this furniture sanitized properly?” Thomas enunciated in disgust. 

Alex set the glass down precariously and swung his head to look at his partner, eyes half closed lazily, “Dunno, ask the last owner.” he slurred. 

“Barbaric.” Thomas whispered, edging to the very end of the chair. Alexander gave him a very laborious middle finger, then flopped back, laughing through his nose. 

He looked back up at Thomas, draping himself over the couch smugly. 

“So.” He spoke, smirking, shifting his hips, “You gonna fuck me, big boy?” He purred, gradually unbuckling his belt and looping his fingers in his waistband. 

Thomas was struck completely by surprise. What!?

“How dare you speak to me like that.” he spat incredulously. How could Alexander be so insensibly blatant? Who did he think he was?

The immigrant shimmied his pants as graceful as he could, which was clumsy to say the least, to halfway down his thighs, biting his lip as he did so.

Thomas watched in appalled disgrace.  
“Alexander… you FILTHY skank!” He snarled. “You’re… DESPICABLE. Christ, you have a death wish. You really have a death wish pushing your luck like that. I swear…” 

“Why are you here then, Thomas?” Alex stroked his cock once, being sure to part his knees so Thomas could perfectly see, and gasping sharply at his touch for exaggerated eroticism. 

“Hmm?” Alex raised an eyebrow at Thomas’s hesitation. The drunk little bastard was right; Thomas knew that. It was why he had come. 

Alex raised a clumsy hand to his mouth and cocked his head at Thomas, mocking.  
“Don’t you dare.” Thomas whispered darkly, not an element of joke in his tone. 

“What, daddy?” Alex pouted, “You won’t fuck me? … I’ll do it myself.” 

“Alexander, don’t. You. Dare.” 

Alexander wiggled his eyebrows dangerously, staring right into Thomas’s deadly-threatening glare as he licked his palm torturously slowly. He dragged his tongue over his skin, coating it with slick. As he stared down his enemy, not even comprehending how much trouble he was in. 

“Having second thoughts?” Alex questioned, lowering his hand to his bulge and wrapping his fingers around, slowly stroking it agonizingly. He tilted his head as he moved his hand, moaning deeply in dramatic pleasure, orgasm painted mockingy on his face.

He squirmed and rolled his hips deeply, feigning oversensitivity and needy desperation. He knew this was exactly what would make Thomas want him, need him. 

The Virgian was helplessly turned on, no doubt about that. Seeing Alexander play with himself all while looking right in his eyes… It was enough to make him shoot right up and advance on the little man, throw him down on the coffee table and fuck his little asshole. 

...But not tonight. He knew needed to contain the fury bubbling up inside of him, manifesting itself in a nagging pool of ravished hunger in the bottom of his belly.  
Despite all primitive urges, Thomas was a man of class. And Alexander was so intoxicated he had no idea what he was doing. He laced his fingers properly over his knee and stared coldly back at Alexander.

“What gives you the idea that you get to decide when you’re allowed to cum?” Thomas drawled boredly, seriousness laced in his calm, icy tone.

Alex stuck out the tip of his tongue and closed his eyes orgasmically, “Ooh, I’m scared… Watch out daddy, I might cum all over your pretty little shoes.” 

“SHUT UP!” Thomas barked sternly, sitting up straight. Alexander’s hand froze on his cock for a moment as he opened his eyes, his drunken gaze slightly shocked at the rough voice, anticipating. 

Thomas stood smoothly, gracefully, brown eyes training on his bothersome little sub. He skirted the table as if walking on air, until he was in front of Alexander.  
The tall man stopped, towering over him. 

Alex looked up timidly. 

“Who decides when you are allowed to cum, Alexander?” Thomas whispered, staring coldly down.  
Alexander did not respond other than to accept the challenge, glaring tipsily back into his dom’s eyes. 

The pain came quickly and abruptly. Alexander’s head snapped to the side as the sharp “thwack!” echoed in the room. 

“I said, WHO DECIDES WHEN YOU ARE ALLOWED TO CUM?” Thomas roared. 

Alexander’s eyes teared up as he blinked rapidly, lips parted in speechless shock. He lifted his hand to his face, gingerly touching the raw, stinging skin and grimaced from his own touch. 

Thomas watched him coldly.  
“Did that hurt, Alexander?” he nearly whispered, his voice was so low and emotionless.

“Yes.” Alex breathed submissively, spinning mind giving in to the total control, blinking the tears away.

“I’m going to hurt you a lot harder if you disrespect me again. Understand, Alexander?” 

“Yes.” Alex mumbled again, trying hard not to pout. 

“Look me in the eyes. Manners.” Thomas commanded briskly and Alexander complied to Thomas’s humming approval.  
“Answer my previous question, Alexander. And I would be careful with my attitude if I were you.” Thomas warned darkly, looking down on the little man.

Alex shifted shamefully, not daring to look away. “Daddy decides when I get to cum.” He strained out as respectfully as he could manage considering that he wanted to leap up and show Thomas a good challenge. But he knew he was in trouble, so he agonizingly held his tongue. 

“Good boy.” Thomas nodded curtly, satisfied. “Now apologize to your daddy for your unacceptable behavior.” 

“I’m sorry.” Alex mumbled looking at the floor, cheeks glowing red with fury and alcohol.  
“For what?” Thomas prompted. Alex whined inaudibly in desperate frustration, looking at the ceiling then back at his master.  
“For touching myself when I didn’t have permission.” He struggled out between breaths, rage well-hidden considering his state. 

The taller crouched down so he was level with Alexander, gently reaching out for Alexander’s hands. The immigrant flinched when their skin made electric contact, but Thomas purred enticingly, allowing Alex to skeptically allow his enemy to hold his hands. 

“And why did that make daddy unhappy?” 

Alex looked deep into Thomas’s brown eyes and gulped.  
“Because daddy is in charge.” 

“What was that?” Thomas hummed, cocking an eyebrow and parting his lips, clearly having heard what his sub said, but having the brutal arrogance to force him to say it again. 

Alex forced his eyes to stay on Thomas’s swallowing his angry breaths, laboriously struggling to be good for Thomas; just do as he says, just do as he says and you’ll be rewarded, Alex chanted in his mind. 

“Daddy… Is in charge…” Alex breathed.  
“Right you are, Alexander. Good boy.” Thomas released his hands and stood once again, brushing off his smooth coat and clasping his hands behind his back. 

“Listen very carefully, Alexander, I know you are disgustingly intoxicated.”  
The seated man tilted his head up to him angrily, glaring but once again holding his tongue. 

“We are going to go upstairs. You are going to take a bath and brush your teeth. You will do your hair, get dressed in clean clothes and go straight to bed. Do you understand what we are to do?” 

Alex squinted in irritated outrage, “We?” he spat. 

“Yes, we. You think I’d let you stagger around here and kill yourself on a table corner. Who would be my fuck-toy then, hm.” Thomas sneered obviously.  
“How about your wife?” 

Thomas laughed lightly through his nose, crossing his arms. “I think I’ve made it obvious that women are not my forte.” he smirked. 

“Had a feeling.” Alexander grinned jokingly as Thomas leaned forward, extending his arms.  
“Whaddya playing at? Don’ touch me.” Alex slurred, sleepiness hinted in his voice. Thomas rolled his eyes and curled one arm under the little man’s back, the other below his knees.

“You can take the stairs on your own if you want. I don’t really fucking care and it would be amusing.”  
“I’m good.”  
“Truly, it’s a win-win. Either you make it and it’s fucking hilarous or you die. I can’t lose.”  
“Fuck you.”

The two bickered aggressively as Thomas climbed the staircase, little Alexander in his arms smelling sharply of alcohol. They crossed the threshold into Alex’s bedroom and Thomas carried him to the bed, sitting him down gently on the edge.

“Feeling tame today, are we?”  
“Feeling like if you vomit on me, I’ll murder you.” Thomas strolled to the bathroom, his muffled voice calling back, “you’ve already got a bath drawn in here, correct?” 

“Mhmm this morning.” Alex hiccuped, flopping back on the bed, “Heat it up, would ya, darling?” He snorted at the ceiling. 

Thomas emerged from the bathroom, “Not a chance. Get your ass up.” he grunted as he approached the little main and hoisted him once again into his powerful arms. 

“I’m gonna freeze, you fucker!” Alex tried to kick Thomas.  
“It’s warmer than you think, you insufferable brat. Sit on the edge and don’t fall in; it’ll be a hassle if you hit your head and die. I’d drown in inquiries.” Thomas mumbled as he crouched down, fingers working at the buttons on Alexander’s shirt and stripping him of it and his waistcoat. 

“In.” Thomas commanded, assisting Alexander in sliding into the water without slipping. The immigrant basically melted into the bliss, trying not to prove Thomas right by sighing at the surprising warmth the bath had kept. 

“Soap.” Thomas declared, placing the beige bar in Alex’s hand, but is slipped like butter through his limp fingers.  
“Oh come on, try a little harder than that, asshole.” the Virginian rolled his eyes in annoyance. 

“Can’t. Your job. Go ‘head.” Alex spoke in short sentences, rolling onto his belly and propping his head up on his folded arms. The arrogant prick sighed deeply and closed his eyes, awaiting Thomas’s touch expectantly. 

“Unbelievable.” Thomas drawled irritably, picking up the soap with two dainty fingers and gingerly placing it on Alex’s submerged skin. He felt like a lowly servant and sneered.  
“Enjoy this while it lasts, Alexander because I’ll never do your peasant's work again.” 

“Mmm…” Alex hummed, “less talk, more wash.” he groaned deeply into his arms, earning his hair a sharp tug from his disgruntled dom.

It started out as burdensome, Thomas wouldn’t deny that: having to wash Alexander’s drunk-ass like a handmaid. He grumbled about how immature and irresponsible Alex was, but the little man seemed to hear nothing of it as he melted under Thomas’s touch. 

After some time it almost became… therapeutic in a sense. For both men. Thomas gliding the soap rhythmically over Alexander’s exhausted little body, and Alex relaxing completely under Thomas’s control. 

As soon as the two had settled into a system, Thomas broke it.  
“Alright, up and out, my little drunk; my fingers are doing the distasteful prune thing.”  
“Flattering. Call me Alexander.”  
“I’ll call you whatever the hell I want; your drunk-ass won’t remember shit tomorrow.” 

Alex stepped out of the tub and swayed, grasping Thomas’s shoulder.  
“I’m sober.” he mumbled, taking the towel Thomas had extended to him, wrapping the long thing around his body like a cloak.  
“Mm, and I’m the queen of England.” Thomas sneered, shepherding Alexander out of the bathroom fussily. 

The little man tripped over the dragging, fluffy towel that enveloped his tiny frame, and plunked to the floor with protest as Thomas shoved down his shoulders.

“Hey whaddya think you’re doing?” Alex blinked up at Thomas who was opening the wardrobe door in front of them and then crossing behind the sitting man.

“Don’t move. Where is your hairbrush?” his voice grew faint as he disappeared into the bathroom and reappeared promptly.

“Thanks for the information.” He scoffed, lowering himself gracefully to the floor close behind Alexander. If he squinted, the thickly-wrapped immigrant could see in the wardrobe mirror that Thomas had found his horsehair brush made from cheap cowhorn. 

Shuffling daintily into position, Thomas sniffed and placed a hand on the back of Alex’s neck, using the other hand to draw the brush gently through the man’s long, wet hair. 

Alex hesitated.  
“A- Are you brushing my hair?” he sputtered.

Thomas paused, meeting his eyes in the mirror.  
“A- Are you stupid?” He mocked, rolling his eyes and continuing his task (“Dimwit…”)

Still in slight shock, Alexander watched through the mirror as Thomas’s eyes left his and he continued to work on his hair, pulling the brush through his long strands and taking extra care with the knotted places.  
Alex’s fuzzy mind wandered as Thomas worked diligently with the brush, grooming his hair rhythmically… he was calm… he felt something that was a step further than content…  
He realized the feeling was security. His eyes drooped closed at the feeling of Thomas’s firm hand on the brush and his palm against the back of his neck.

The little man was so deep in bliss, he hardly noticed when his handler set down the brush and started working at the top of his head, fingers tugging gently at his hair.

Opening his eyes effortfully, Alex glanced in the mirror after a few minutes of this meticulous tugging, curious.  
As soon as his dull mind comprehended what was happening, something in his chest shifted.

Thomas Jefferson was sitting behind him, tongue between his lips, pleating Alexander’s hair with full concentration. His long, powerful fingers weaved the brown strands attentively… carefully. 

When he was done fitting a clip to the bottom, he gently let go, leaning back a bit to observe his handiwork. 

“French braid?” Alex laughed softly through his nose, making Thomas’s eyes shoot to meet his in the mirror, not even realizing Alex had been watching him the whole time.  
“Oui.” Thomas spoke curtly, suddenly leaning forward to stand with a huff.  
“Your hair was un désastre massif. I don’t want it in my face all night.” He approached the wardrobe, searching for the place where Alexander might keep his nightclothes. 

“But I should not speak in français. Not tonight.” he cast a steely glance devilishly over his shoulder, “I’ve seen how it… affects you, mon jouet précieux.” 

Alex squirmed in embarrassment as Thomas tossed his nightclothes at him on the floor. 

“Get dressed. You can manage.” He dictated coldly, walking past Alex to put away the brush. 

Holding onto the bedpost, the tipsy man dressed himself and clambered into bed, still staring at his reflection from there.  
Tilting his head back and forth, he could see the impeccable craftsmanship in the smooth braid. If he was honest with himself, it was fucking badass. 

In a minute, Thomas sauntered back out in nothing but underwear. 

Alex looked him up and down.  
“You’re gonna be cold on the walk home, but okay, buddy.” he laughed, settling in the sheets. 

“Excuse me?” Thomas sneered, walking around the edge of the bed and swinging onto it, bouncing little Alexander. 

The immigrant turned irritably, “I said, your ass is gonna be cold on the walk home.” 

“I haven’t the slightest clue what you’re going on about.” Thomas rolled his eyes, pulling back the covers and pulling his legs in. “Why aren’t you drinking water? Are you five? Drink the damn water, Hamilton.” 

“Not thirsty.” 

“You’ve had nine whiskeys, a black eye, and two affairs, Alexander. You’re thirsty.” 

“I’m not thirst- how are you giving me orders? Get out of my damn house, Jeffs.” 

“Don’t call me that.” 

“Get out of my house, damnit.” Alex threw up his arms drunkenly and rolled over so he wasn’t facing Thomas.  
There were two minutes of silence before Alex peeked over his shoulder. 

“Still here, Alexander.” Thomas sighed exhaustedly, used to Alex’s fits of passion at this point, slightly amused. 

“Go away.”  
“Shut your mouth before I shut it for you. That’s an order, not a suggestion, wise-ass.” 

Alex suddenly rolled to face Thomas, much closer to him now as they laid in bed together. Alex pointed tipsily at his larger partner, looking like a damn fool as he tried to appear authoritative.  
“You know what, I think I’ve got you figured out, Jefferson.” He slurred, squinting at Thomas. 

The larger man squinted right back, amused. “Is that so?” He hummed, nodding leisurely. “Enlighten me.” He replied as he propped his head on his hand, eyes half-closed.  
Alex scooted closer, arrogantly preparing his statement.

“You talk a big game, Jeffs, but you’re really just a soft pussy until someone puts you out of control.” 

Thomas nodded slowly, entertained.  
“You love power. You CRAVE power. And when it causes someone else helpless pain that’s when you crave it the most, don’t you, you sick fucker. Isn’t that right?” 

Thomas stared at him silently for a few moments, squinting into Hamilton’s brown, drunken eyes. 

He laughed through his nose. “You got me, Hamilton. Congratulations.” Thomas opened his hands and clapped them slowly, smirking as he mocked condescendingly.  
“Don’t mock me.” Alex spat, shuffling forward to poke Thomas painfully in the bare chest. “Tell me that anything I said wasn’t true.” 

“Nope. You’ve caught me red handed. I- how did you put it? - CRAVE control.” Thomas laughed again taunting, and drew closer. His face suddenly became darker, more serious, hand crawling up Alexander’s chest. 

“I’m as tame as a lamb until you step out of line…” he purred, voice dripping sweetly as saturated honey. His fingers skimmed lightly up the front of Alexander’s delicate throat, making the sensitive skin twitch.  
“And then I become a wolf in sheep’s clothing.” he breathed, stroking Alex’s throat affectionately like a pet, ever so feather-lightly.

“And oh... do I love the hunt.” He taunted menacingly, placing a powerful thumb on the painful part of the skin and pressing, making Alex’s eyes water in pleasured agony. 

Thomas cocked his head expressionlessly, watching without emotion as Alexander coughed and wriggled in pain.

“I have you all figured out too, Alexander.” Thomas spoke softly, not letting go his grip.  
“You talk a big game but you know you’re a submissive little lamb. Desperate to be preyed on…” 

Thomas leaned in abruptly, grazing his lips against Alex’s wet ones, relishing in his erotic gasp.  
“You love pain, Alexander. You love the torture.” The little man coughed sharply again and felt Thomas smirk against his lips. 

“You want a wolf, Hamilton? ...You get the bite.” Alex gasped needily at the words as Thomas leaned in and bit his bottom lip sharply, enough to make him squeal. 

Releasing the knifelike pressure on his windpipe, Thomas wrapped his hand around Alexander’s throat, holding him dominantly as they devoured each other’s mouths slowly.  
Dirty tongues danced against each other at a crawling pace, memorizing each other meticulously. The slick heat between their tongues was obscene as the dominant one explored the sides of his play-thing’s mouth. 

Thomas lapped at the roof of Alex’s mouth and drew away gently with a satisfying conclusion and a soft wet sound. 

Lips still lightly brushing, Alexander opened his milky-brown eyes, glistening from the earlier threat of tears, “You can NOT make me go to sleep after that.” he laughed gently, shaking his head and exhaling deeply. 

“Actually, I can.” Thomas smiled affectionately, hint of cockiness still in his lofty gaze as he brushed the back of his fingernails over Alex’s cheek. 

There was a moment.  
There was definitely a moment, more than that as the two stared at each other, gazing into the deepest depths of one another’s eyes. There was a fleeting moment where they were bare to the wind, vulnerable and unprotected, and neither one threw up their walls. 

And then Alexander broke it. With the dreaded, dreaded word. 

“I love you. Thomas.” He spoke, heavy tongue lolling on his teeth as he laid his head down sleepily on his pillow. His forehead pressed against Thomas’s collarbone. 

The Virginian froze. 

His heart plummeted into his stomach with a force greater than gravity crushing in on a planet’s core. 

He couldn’t speak for a moment as Alex nestled into his body, seeking warmth as if he’d never said anything out of the ordinary, as if he’d only said goodnight. Thomas breathed a shaky breath.

“Okay, wow, definitely time for you to sleep off the alcohol.” he spoke, accent showing through to an embarrassing degree as it always did in the rare instances when he was caught off guard. 

“I’m not lying… I love you…” Alexander slurred, voice muffled as his head tucked gently against Thomas. 

It’s the liquor talking, Thomas reminded himself, desperately trying to hold down the thoughts that were threatening to push out of his restraints and scream through his mind. 

“Alright, go to sleep.”  
“But I-”  
“Sleep.” 

Thomas shut down the little man, not wanting to delve into this conversation any further. The man was drunk. Piss-yourself-throw-up-in-a-bush-tell-your-enemy-you-love-him drunk. He didn’t have the slightest fucking clue what he was saying and when the sun was to come up, he wouldn’t remember any of it. 

And no matter how he justified that Alexander had not meant what he said, he had said it. 

No matter how he weaved around it, it was glaring in his face like moonlight on the surface of the stillest lake. 

Thomas looked down at Alexander Hamilton, already breathing softly in deep sleep, curled against his own body, dark braid snaking through his hair.  
He gripped him possessively by the waist, going against what he knew was right and shoving all of his thoughts down deep into his mind, locking them up so they would not disturb this sleep.

He couldn’t think of this now. He wouldn’t.  
He would ask tomorrow why he had gotten wasted and how he had gotten the black eye and what he remembered from the previous night. The Virginian would never mention this moment. 

He consigned the thoughts to oblivion as his chin rested on Alex’s head, jaw brushing the curves of the smooth braid.

As minutes passed… he unknowingly matching his breathing with Alexander's as the two fell asleep…


	25. Cocky, Are We?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After waking up to the surprise of Thomas in his house, he and Alexander have a battle of wits over the events of the previous night and the subject of jealousy... They go to Thomas's manor together to spend a free day away from work and make a little wager, a little bet, between the two of them that will result in a very torturous day for Alexander...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Stay tuned for the next chapters! :)

Upon waking, the first thing that Alexander felt was the dull pain in his skull. He kept his eyes closed, the light behind them already making his head pound sharply.   
It felt like his brain was trying to squeeze out of his cranium with every knifelike throb, hammering on the back of his eyes. 

Groaning and rolling over in his sheets, he pulled a pillow over the top of his head, shielding his ears from the usual sound of birds twittering, carriages meandering through traffic, men shouting and the nearby butcher, tailor, and wig shops opening for the day. These every-morning sounds of New York City were piercing his ears like sewing needles. 

Under the muffled darkness of the pillow that brought him some comfort, Alexander tried to count his heap of thoughts that were piling up and give them all a hearing. He was hungover; that was obvious. But he was clean, dressed in poper nightclothes, and he was in his BED for that matter! Usually when he was wasted he’d wake up on the floor in John’s house or maybe Manhattan.

And his hair…  
He ran a hand beneath the pillow over the back of his head.

What the fuck? 

He pulled the pillow off and sat up stiffly, shoulders popping as he raised his hands to the curves that were obviously skillfully weaved but were fuzzy after a night of sleep. 

Something was definitely questionable.   
What had he done last night? 

Alex thought hard but his pounding head swired up all the events into a chaotic disaster. He massaged his eyes deeply and began again with a deep breath, this time from the beginning. 

Cabinet meeting. Right. Thomas had pulled his little public humiliation stunt and completely given Alexander’s argument a kick to the balls. Perfect. 

Next he went to the bar and… Yes, he had wanted to get wasted. A feeling of tension crept up his spine. Because…? 

Burr.

Alex’s veins rushed with a cold floor of adrenaline. From that name bloomed the fuzzy outline of a blur of events, the fight, the threat… 

And that’s why he had come home; he was kicked out. And John had taken him home?   
No they never got there because he had no recollection of being dropped off .

And then it hit him. They had had an argument, the topic of which was unrecoverable but the heavy feeling was still there.   
And after that… everything was completely irretrievable. 

Alex huffed a long sigh, and stiffly stepped out of bed groaning loudly as his muscles ached with soreness. He limped his way to the bathroom.   
Splashing some water on his face, he looked up into the mirror after pulling the towel away and gasped.

A purple black eye bloomed from the right side of his face, startling him. Lips parted, he gingerly touched the area and winced at the contact of his fingertips. Shit.  
Blinking, he rubbed his temples and turned out of the bathroom, staggering towards the hallway. He needed some hangover food. Now. Today was already one huge fuckshow and he’d been awake five minutes. 

Were there any rolls left? 

Railing as his support, the little immigrant thumped down the stairs and rounded the bend towards the kitchen hallway, starving. 

Out of nowhere, a voice piped up.  
“Alexander, about time-” 

The little man positively screamed and reflexively rammed his fist up into whatever had just walked around the corner with a sickening “thwack!” 

“AUGH!” The figure roared, putting hands up to grasp his face and stepping back.  
Alex had leapt back in a defensive position, adrenaline pumping like ice through his veins, heart positively hammering with fear. 

“CHRIST, ALEXANDER!” The man roared, leaning against a wall as support and lowering his hands from his face, droplets of blood coloring them. Alexander’s stomach lurched as he comprehended.

“Jefferson?!” He scoffed in complete disbelief, “What the fuck!?” he shrieked, not putting his fists down yet. 

“WHY the HELL did you punch me!” Thomas boomed, veins on his neck popping, shaking his blood-spattered hands. 

“I wasn’t expecting to be- WHY ARE YOU IN MY HOUSE?” Alexander cut himself off, realizing the ludicrousy of the situation. 

Thomas took one moment for breath, “Just calm down for one fucking second I’m bleeding out over here.” he sneered angrily, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and turning his hand over to observe it.

“Calm down? Calm down?! My head feels like someone put a bayonet through it with a mallet!” Alex whined in pain, refusing to lay off.

Thomas sighed exasperatedly,  
“Alright, bitch, you want pancakes or not?”   
he asked, catching the little man off guard. 

Alex ceased his whining, and perked up, squinting at Thomas calculatively. “Pancakes?”   
“Yes, you hungover shitwad. Pancakes.” 

The little immigrant tried to hide his immediate interest in the hangover food and considered Thomas carefully. 

“Yes.” Alex sniffed haughtily, making his decision with chin in the air.   
“Well,” Thomas responded, knowing Alexander would react in this way, “let’s go to the kitchen and talk CALMLY, and you can eat the food I was making before you clocked me in the face.” he growled as Alexander walked by him and pushed open the swinging door. 

The smell of sweet, warm, cooking batter filled the kitchen like never before. 

“Shit… how long till they’re done.” Alex settled down on a wooden stool at the small table impatiently.   
“They’re done when they’re done.” Thomas grumbled, standing over the stone cooking-fireplace with the cast iron pan suspended above. 

“The light’s hurting my head.” Alex whined; the kitchen had big windows for ventilation and the morning sunlight was pouring into the stone and wood room.

“Suck it up.” Thomas grunted shortly, turning to him with a plate stacked to the roof with steaming pancakes and setting it down with a clink. He dragged up another stool and sat, knees spread, arms crossed on the table as Alex leaped forward to devour the food. 

The tall man only watched as he ate, bouncing his foot rhythmically. 

In only a couple minutes, Alex slapped his fork down when he was finished, crossing his arms.   
“Okay. Answers.” He demanded. 

“You’re welcome for breakfast, wise-guy.” 

“Thanks. Now answers. What happened last night?”   
Thomas crossed his arms too, sighing deeply through his nose.  
“You want me to be straight with you?” he asked lightly.

Aex snorted, “preferably not. Somebody’s gotta fuck my ass.”   
“Hilarious.” Thomas huffed through his nose at the gay joke, “And funny you should say that.” Alexander cocked his head. 

“I came to your house last night after dinner. I was expecting proper satisfaction and then discarding you to enjoying a nice glass of Brandy and reading some Chénier for the evening at home.” 

“Boring.” Alex whispered under his breath as Thomas continued.

“And I was in disbelief to see you so revoltingly drunk that instead, you vomit over the porch and stumble around like a hoodlum.” He shook his head, “I had to take care of your ass all night like a servant.” 

“Did we fuck?” Alexander asked lazily around the glass of water in his mouth. He set it down, laughing to himself and swallowing, “Scratch that, considering that I can sit down, the answer is no.” 

“Oh, but did you try, Alexander. I had to hold back from beating you senseless for your flagrant disrespect.” he enunciated strictly.   
“And another thing…” his tone suddenly darkened and slowed; the Virginian leaned forward on his folded arms resting on the table. He burned into Alex’s eyes. 

“The first thing you said when I saw you is that you’d want James. Madison. To join. Us.”   
Thomas pulling in his dark brows, “Any comment on that?” 

Alex felt like Thomas had just slapped him across the face. He gaped, stunned and laughed, blinking, “You’re kidding me, right?” He scoffed. 

Thomas raised an eyebrow silently. 

The little one rolled his head around in amused disbelief, landing his eyes back on Thomas incredulously.   
Then he came up with a brand new little scheme.

Lips parted, he smirked slightly, showing his canines.  
“You know what?” he purred, snakelike, “Yeah, I fucked James Madison.” Alex nodded deeply, leaning back and biting his lip, never breaking from Thomas’s gaze, “Fucked em good. Let him tie me down. Whisper dirty filth in my ear.” 

Alexander watched in delight as the heat in Thomas’s glare mounted exponentially.   
“Let him watch me moan as I cum.” Alex grinned, having far too much fun with this, “James! Oh- oh.. James, yes! Fuck!” 

“Alexander.” Thomas punctuated composedly despite the rage in his eyes, “That is quite enough.” 

“What’s that?” Alex cocked his head, looking up at the ceiling, “Is that… jealousy I hear?”   
“Alright.” Thomas placed a hand on each knee and smiled, leaning forward to stand. 

“Where’re you going?” 

Thomas placed his fingertips on the tabletop as he stood, looking dominantly down on Alex.   
“We are going to my manor. You need a rest day for that hangover.” 

Alex sat in silence, puzzled. 

“And do note that you will be punished for your behavior.” Thomas mentioned offhandedly, as if he’d just remembered it, straightening his cuffs. 

“Ahh, so you are jealous.” Alex refused to let go, persisting as he stood and pushed his stool under.  
“Not jealous, no. I know you didn’t fuck Madison.” 

“And if I had?” Alex followed up, just waiting for the response he was desperately chasing after. Thomas smirked lightly, pushing in his chair with a foot.   
“Well… let’s just say I am a man who knows what is his property and what must only serve for his personal use. I would have it dealt with.” 

And there was the answer he was looking for. 

“Get dressed and back down here in five. My carriage is on its way.” 

**

“Alright, Alexander, this has gone on long enough.” Thomas piped up, setting down his quill for the second time. 

“Ten more minutes.”   
“You’ve been saying that at ten minute increments for the past three hours and I’m sick of your bullshit. So get off your ass.”   
“Bite me.”   
“Don’t think I won’t, smart aleck.” 

The scratching of a quill is all that followed. Thomas plucked off his glasses and set them on his desk, staring at the table where Alex sat near the window in his library, writing like his life depended on it. 

“Alexander Hamilton.” Thomas spoke firmly, not letting his tone give any room for misbehavior, “Put the goddamn quill down. Right. Now.” 

Finally looking up and shooting the most hatred filled scowl, Alexander leaned back and tossed his quill onto the desk crossing his arms poutily.   
“Happy?”   
“Attitude.”   
“Fuck yourself.” 

Alexander got up, looking at his work longingly as he packed it up into his work-cas, mumbling irritably. Thomas only watched on in amusement.   
“Why’d you take your glasses off, Jeffs?” Alex huffed as he paced up to Thomas’s desk and planted his hands on it rudely, “You look very provocative in them.” 

Thomas laughed lightly as he put his quills in order. “You’re disgraceful, you know that? Want me lay you over my desk and fuck you with my glasses on?”   
Alexander lit up in excitement, looking up hopefully into Thomas’s eyes, “Umm, duh.” 

“Well. No.” Thomas answered cruelly, rising from his seat and brushing past him out of the room.   
Alexander made a betrayed little noise as he watched him go.

The immigrant sprang towards the door, short legs striding rapidly to catch up with him, “The amount of self control not to strangle you…” Alex panted, sidling up next to him.   
“I’d like to see you try.” Thomas sneered, strolling into his bedroom.   
“How’s that broken lip feeling, Jeffs?”   
“Don’t call me that. And go choke on a dick.” 

The two bickered as Thomas changed from his formalwear into something more casual, a simple shirt and waistcoat. Alexander gave him a quizzical look.   
“We’re going on a walk.” Thomas explained shortly. 

His little partner groaned, rolling his head back impossibly far. “Oh, quit your bellyaching, bitch, you need the fresh air.” 

“Noooo…” Alex trailed off as he threw himself backwards onto Thomas’s neatly made bed, “Fuck your fresh air. I need dick.” he whined through the pillow he’d plastered over his face. Thomas rolled his eyes and walked forth, ripping it out of his grasp. 

“Hey!” 

“Hello. Now, Alexander, do as I say or I will spend the entire day torturing you. Because I can and I absolutely will.”   
“Sounds good. Let’s get started.” Alex barked frustratedly, sitting up. 

Thomas pushed him back down forcefully with his palm.  
“No, this is not the kind of torture you’re going to like. If I were you I would do as I say, and promptly. Up.” Thomas commanded, throwing the pillow roughly at Alexander who chucked it right back, earning him a disciplining slap across the mouth, but unfortunately nothing more than that. 

And before he knew it, Alexander was walking beside Thomas in the crisp morning air rubbing the side of his mouth.   
“Still hurt?” Thomas gave him a sideways glance, smirking.   
“You hit me so hard your exact fingerprint is etched in my skin.”   
“Pussy.” Thomas rolled his eyes playfully as Alexander punched him in the arm, the little man trying not to laugh.

The morning was turning pleasantly into afternoon, summer insects buzzed lazily about the spilling-over flower beds as the two pairs of feet crunched on well-packed gravel. The winding path brought the two strolling further and further away from the house, as they were surrounded in nature, the heavy scent of perfumed flowers in the sun engulfing their senses. 

The men were silent as they walked side by side. Bird twitters and chirps filled the silence but despite their cheerful mood earlier, there was some inexplicable tension hanging in the small space between them. Alex looked up at Thomas and then ahead again, noticing a glitter of light somewhere between the trees. 

He perked up considerably. 

“Jefferson, what’s over there?” He inquired, pointing to the area curiously as more glittering spaces popped up. Thomas looked on ahead, not even looking where Alexander was pointing out.  
“Lake. And a small one at that.”   
Alexander’s heart fluttered excitedly. He loved water.

“Can we go see it?”   
“Why? It’s not very thrilling.” Thomas drawled.   
“Well neither is your grandpa walk.” The taller smacked Alex on the back of the head, but only to find him laughing. 

“Okay well if you won’t take me there, I’m going on my own.”   
“No you’re not.”   
“Watch me.”   
“Alexander Hamilton do not take ONE more step.” Alex swivelled around, the clever man having already constructed a plan. 

“Okay, okay. Not moving.” He held up his hands innocently, “But... how about a competition…?”  
He smiled at Thomas’s reaction. The tall politician had come to alertness as soon as the word came out, perking up dramatically. 

“Competition?” He twanged, whole Southern accent coming through at full swing.  
“Competition.” Alex repeated the word enticingly, nodding. There was a pause.

“Go on.” Thomas squinted, lifting his chin, already sure he was bound to win without even knowing the stakes. 

Alexander thought for a moment and proceeded, “First one to get in the lake wins. First one in the lake… naked. And if I win, I get to ask whatever I want of you, and you’re required to do it.” Thomas opened his mouth as if to weigh in, but Alex cut him off, “AND, if YOU win…” He looked up into his brown, dangerous eyes, “You punish me. All day. Whatever punishment you want. I’ll have to deal with it.” 

Thomas nodded slowly, crossing his arms, “Okay… but contact is allowed in the race.”   
Alexander took a step towards him at the unfairness considering his size, “BUT you get a two second’s head start because you’re basically just a fuckable elf.”   
“Fuck you.” Alex sneered, “And all bets are off when I leave this place tonight. Deal?” 

Alex stuck out his hand. Thomas considered him for a lofty second before extending his larger hand, shaking it firmly. “It’s a bet.” He twanged. 

The two made a decision of where to start and lined up on the side of the path, Alexander crouching down for his head start. Thomas looked down on him.  
“Scared, Hamilton?” He raised an eyebrow.  
“In your wildest rich-boy dreams.” Thomas sneered and crouched next to him.   
“On three. One…” Thomas could see Alex’s muscles bunching up and grinned, “Two… Three!” 

The immigrant shot off in a spray of gravel into the woods, startling Thomas. The little man was surprisingly fast as he streaked into the forest, head down as his legs pumped. So distracted, Thomas almost forgot to start in time, and pushed off the ground in a hasty burst of speed.

With his smooth, long, athletic strides, Thomas immediately gained on Alexander, feet crunching in the forest foliage as he approached. 

The wind in their hair was exhilarating, their hammering hearts sending bursts of adrenaline to their legs as they thundered through the woods, trees streaking past.

Thomas was right behind Alexander now, and extended his arm as he sprinted, yanking the little one’s braid and forcing him down. Alexander cried out as he tripped and crashed to the forest floor. Thomas laughed and leaped over him, but was foiled by Alex’s quick reflexes. He reached above him and snagged Thomas’s ankle out of the air, sending him careening to the ground with a huge thud.

Wind knocked out of him, Thomas clambered over Alexander to get back to his feet, the two scrummed and snarled, but the Virginian emerged first from the scuffle. He jetted ahead followed closely by Alexander. 

The lake was in clear sight now and with not many more strides they skidded to a stop at the bank, hustling to hastily tear away their clothes and fling them off. At this point, the winner was obvious, Thomas’s victory was imminent as he stepped out of his pants gracefully and turned to half-naked Alexander, a sparkle in his eye as Alex struggled and huffed.

Thomas winked, gave Alex a formal solute, and jumped backwards into the lake with a satisfying splash. 

“Goddamnit.” Alexander growled, finally tripping free of his pants and kicking them off. He hated that the bastard had won. Not even considering the consequences, he ran and leapt right off the bank into the sparkling, sun-ginting lake. Thomas only had a second to put his arms up.

Half caught by the water, half by Thomas, Alexander landed in Thomas’s arms with a splash that got up both of their noses. The water was pleasantly chilly, making goosebumps spread along Alex’s arms as they coughed, and spit water from their mouths. 

“Cheater.” Alexander pointed at Thomas, trying to tread water as he was too short to stand, chin slipping under. 

“Cheater?” Thomas scoffed, “How the fuck did I cheat?”   
“It was CONTACT, not hair pulli-” His voice glubbed off as he sank a bit and then tread again, growing tired from running and swimming. 

Thomas rolled his eyes and shook his head, “Tell yourself what you want; you lost. If you accept that, maybe I'll consider not letting you drown right now.”   
Alexander only scowled as Thomas laughed, reaching under the water for his hip bones before getting an answer, and hoisting him up to hold him.

“Still hate you.” Alex squinted.

Thomas didn’t respond but for a laugh and a silencing kiss, pressing deeply into the little man’s mouth with his tongue. Still angry and frustrated and tired, a flurry of emotions whirled through both men as their lips collided, both hearts skipping a beat in unison.

Alexander was a tough customer, making Thomas work for it, but eventually he opened up and surrendered to his dom’s tongue, letting him lap at the insides of his cheeks and the corners of his lips.

Wading slowly in the cool water, Thomas walked up to the small, sandy beach area quietly and lowering Alexander down onto the sand, working with his tongue as he pressed his weight over his sub, lapping into the back of his mouth, under his tongue, and raking hotly along the roof of his mouth. 

Alexander suddenly needed more, the feeling of Thomas’s body and tongue on and in him was mounting into an urgent need. When heat rushed to his lower belly, his hips bucked helplessly, but under Thomas’s weight it was futile.

With a cute, little whine, he reached between them, grasping for Thomas’s cock. Suddenly, Thomas bit Alexander’s lip sharply, forcing a pitiful squeal out of him as he smacked his hand away roughly. Water splashed at the movement. 

“Not allowed.” Thomas mumbled into Alex’s mouth, earning him a needy moan.   
Taking a moment before making his decision, Thomas stood, powerfully lifting Alexander by the thighs.   
Not breaking their deep-mouth contact, he strode up the shore to the bright grassy area they had stripped on, and laid him down in the soft grass with a thump, a little less-than-gently. Water streamed off of both of them, slick, wet hair dark against their heads.

“Legs. Open. Now.” He growled between short, hot kisses. 

Thomas trailed his searing tongue down Alex’s jaw to his precious throat that he adored messing with, and clamped down on the whole thing deeply. Alex sounded a guttural moan at the perfect pain. 

“Oh you like that?” Thomas breathed mockingly.  
“Oh yes… Oh…” Alex gasped as Thomas sucked at his pulse point and bit his throat once again. 

“Thomas…” he squealed. The larger man who was laying on top of him, dragged his body down as he trailed hot, wet, hickeys across his collarbone, tracing the sharp outline with his tongue.   
Thomas grinded deeply into Alex’s cock, earning another obscene sound and, wanting to hear it again, Thomas rolled his hips in once more for his own cruel pleasure. Alexander sobbed at the friction. 

“Sit up.” Thomas commanded. Alexander did not comply, only whimpered and tried to buck his hips helplessly, only causing his head to slam back into the ground. Thomas growled and reached a powerful hand forward to grasp his throat, pulling him up himself. Thomas smacked him across the mouth with a loud “crack!” that echoed lightly off the trees. 

Alexander's eyes welled angrily as he snarled like a rabid animal, teeth bared. “Arrogant… piece- of- shit…” Alex coughed out.  
“Don’t you DARE talk back to me with that FILTHY mouth of yours.” he asserted, making Alex flinch. “Come here…” he growled, pulling the little man closer, roughly, so that he was in his lap, their shafts touching. 

Alex twitched at the heat, mewling lightly and looking down at their cocks desperately.   
“Eyes. Up.” Thomas tightened his grip a bit, forcing the immigrant to do his bidding. Alexander complied. 

One large hand dangerously still on his throat, Thomas every so slowly wrapped the other around both of their cocks, gripping firmly at the base and pausing. 

Seconds passed, he could almost hear Alex’s heart thudding as he trembled with discipline. His lip quivered helplessly as he looked up into Thomas’s heartless gaze, desperately pleading.  
“Ready to cry already?” Thomas mocked coldly, finally gliding his hand up their shafts. Alexander almost collapsed backwards in relief, he melted as his eyes rolled just a bit.   
“Please… please… yes…” He breathed, chest heaving as Thomas continued to stroke their cocks together.

The steady rhythm continued before Thomas began to speed up, the pleasure shooting abruptly up from Alex’s belly through his body as he jerked uncontrollably.   
“OH! Th- Th… Mmph!” His whimpering was cut off as Thomas pulled his head onto his, smacking their tongues together, going into the kiss with wide open mouths. 

Thomas started to grasp harder, pump both of them faster, a steady motion of perfect pleasure. But he always had a kicker in mind. He knew that Alexander was relishing in being up against his shaft, so close to him… so he started to thrust shortly into his hand as well, providing the immigrant with added, slick friction. 

Alexander wailed into Thomas’s mouth as the Virginian’s skillful hips moved his cock against his in perfect synch with his hand. Thomas sped up as he felt himself beginning to feel his climax in reach. 

“You want your punishment?” Thomas breathed, panting into Alexander’s ear. The little one only nodded frantically, hips jerking wildly. “You want daddy to give you what you deserve? Wanna cry for daddy?” Thomas bit Alex’s ear roughly, yanking slightly before pulling back. 

Thomas wolved Alex’s tongue back into his mouth, mercilessly as the man moaned. 

Not five seconds passed before Alex squeezed his eyes shut, hard. His breathing accelerated to heaves against Thomas’s face.   
“Mmph! Mmph..! Mmph…!” He whimpered shrilly into Thomas’s mouth, unable to make any other sort of noise. The message was communicated perfectly; he was about to cum. This was Thomas’s cue.

The Virginian broke off the kiss and lifted his hand away. Separating their cocks completely, Thomas backed up slightly from Alexander and continued to jerk off only himself, watching the show in butal cruelty. 

Alexander screamed. It was so shrill and helpless, he thought it would never end. Eyes squeezed shut, lips parted, he panted, whimpering, as he flopped down onto his back in the grass.  
He squirmed desperately, crossing his legs and uncrossing them as the tears began to roll down his cheeks. Eventually, the torturous agony of orgasm-denial was too exhausting and he lay mostly-unmoving in the grass, panting shakily and twitching.

Thomas watched on with immense enjoyment, finally letting go of his cock as he cummed his release into the grass between them. “Oh… Fuck… Alexander…” He breathed quietly, letting his orgasm rock him into ecstasy for brief moments. 

When he finally came back down from his pleasure, he crawled forward towards his little sub. He was still on his back, unmoving other than some quiet sobs. 

Thomas stared down at him, “What did you learn from your punishment, Alexander?” he spoke, voice as smooth and cool as velvet.   
Alex heaved another sob and weakly managed to open his eyes, lips moving soundlessly. 

“That daddy doesn’t like you talking about other boys, isn’t that right?” Thomas growled deeply in his chest, now crawling on his hands and knees above Alexander possessively. 

His body was still shaking slightly. “So good… So… so…” he trailed off incoherently.   
Thomas nodded, “You like it when daddy doesn’t let you cum?” 

Alex bobbed his head, wet eyes gazing admiringly up at his dom. 

“Well… That’s good news for you, Alexander. Good news, indeed.” 

Thomas stood up, brushing off his hands. Alexander himself had cooled down slightly, still itching agonizingly from the torture, and sat up.  
“Why?” he inquired curiously.

Thomas looked down on him.   
“Because your punishment is not nearly over. And I’ve got a lot in mind before I’m through with you.” 

Alex gulped fearfully, but excitedly, standing on his shaky, weak, legs to rise up to Thomas. He slowly met his eyes.

In one swift motion Alex put his hands on Thomas’s shoulders and bounced up, allowing the taller man to hold the thighs that he wrapped around him. “Alexander....” The name of his partner dying on his lips, the two collided together in a battle of tongues. 

It was messy and heated, but more than anything there was an overwhelming, aggressive, unexpected and inexplicable amount of passion between those lips. 

Putting the Cabinet work and debates and national government behind them for now, they lapped at each other. One nice long day to put all of it out of their minds and only think of one thing. One thing… 

Yes, they both decided. This was going to be a good day indeed...


	26. Release

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An argument over dinner proves that Alexander and Thomas are both hiding something (Thomas: that Alex said he loved him)(Alex: That he'd exposed something secret to Burr, gotten in a fight, and been abandoned by John), leading to a heated fight and one of Alexander's hottest, roughest punishments yet. Afterwards... in bed as Alexander falls asleep reading to him... Thomas whispers something that you're going to want to hear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your support! Read on! 😄

“‘And even silence found a tongue’… STOP laughing; every time you laugh, I laugh, and we’ll never get through it.” Thomas broke off from his reading, unable to hold back his own chuckles.  
“Alexander….” Thomas growled, trying to seem threatening but they were both laughing. “WHAT the fuck is so funny?” he spat, snapping the book closed. 

Alexander wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“I-it’s the accent.” He wheezed between breaths. Thomas rolled his eyes and began to stand from the chair, fed-up.  
“No, no, wait, Thomas, Thomas.” Alexander sputtered, leaning forward to catch him and pull him back down. “Lemme read it, here, come on.” he gestured for the book that Thomas handed him suspiciously, sitting back down. 

Alexander flipped it to the bookmarked page, “One sec, hold on...” He giggled, finding the page and stopping. He straightened up and raised his chin like Thomas did, placing his finger on the line he was on. 

“N eve’n SAHlence found a tung.” Alexander began voice positively DRIPPING with Southern accent. “To hawnt me all th’summer LAWng.”  
He was cut off by the explosive laughter from Thomas, positively erupting from him.

“I do NOT sound like that!” He protested, leaning over the top of the chair pointing at Alexander as he roared.  
“YES you do!” Alexander retorted, snorting uncontrollably as he too flopped forward, draping his body over the chair. 

The two hooted over Alex’s imitation for a minute, finally coming down after what seemed forever. Their laughter echoed in the tall, domed ceiling of the parlor which was alive with light from the late-afternoon sun, warming them at the plush chairs by the biggest window. After their baths, Alex was cold, so he insisted on sitting by the warm summer sun, little table between them. It was Thomas who had pulled out the poetry book.

“Okay, okay, since this is your favorite I’ll let you finish.” Alex breathed exhaustedly, sides aching as he calmed himself.  
Thomas paused, folding his hands over the top of the seat, leisurely.  
“And how would you know this is my favorite?” he raised an eyebrow testily. 

“It was bookmarked here when you brought it out and when I moved the bookmark, there was a deep indent in its place. Either it’s your favorite or you were reading the book and stopped after this poem and never read any further…”  
“Ahh, an aspiring detective. And what implies that it cannot be both?” Thomas challenged. Alexander accepted willingly.

“The rest of the books in the library. If they have bookmarks, they’re at the end or the beginning, indicating that you finish every book you own, or someone in the house does. If this wasn’t your favorite poem, the bookmark would be at the front or the back if you’d finished. And if you were in the middle of reading it for the first time, there’d be no indent. In the first place.” 

Thomas nodded, light smirk on his lips. “Not bad.”  
“Lawyer.”  
“That explains it. Also explains why you have no morals.”  
“Says the politician.”  
“We’re both politicians, fuckwit.”  
“Read the damn poem. Quickly, us lawyers wither under refined poetry like vampires in daylight.” 

Thomas scoffed and returned to the book, shaking his head at grinning Alexander who settled down in the cushy chair.  
Thomas cleared his throat once more and began to read. 

This time… something about his voice was different. His accent was in place, all the same, but the way he read the words, it was as if he wasn’t reading at all. The words were reading him, coming out of him.  
Alexander was taken aback, gaping in shock for a few moments as he continued

“And even silence found a tongue... to haunt me all the summer long. The riddle nature could not prove…” He paused.  
“was nothing else but secret love…” Thomas finished quietly. 

He did not look up at Alexander, just at the last stanza like it was withholding answers it would undoubtedly hand over willingly. Thomas’s finger which was on the page, dragged across the lines slowly… and then off the edge of the book. Alexander looked on, completely at a loss as to what Thomas was thinking.

The Virginian coughed slightly, eyes shifting from the poem, to Alexander, to the floor as if suddenly aware he was being listened to, and embarrassed.

“Wonderful poem. Insightful.” He strained out, closing the book purposefully and rising, brushing himself off. 

Alexander rose too, unsure of what to say. “Hey… Thomas-”  
“How about some dinner?” The tall man cut him off curtly, putting the book away in the little table. 

Alex forced a small laugh, “Yeah.” he spoke, quickly tucking some hair behind his ear.

**

“Why do you do this to me, Thomas. Why?” Alex whined, breathing deeply.  
“You know you love it.” Thoms growled. 

“Yeah but I’m gonna get fat. Do you want me to be fat?” Alexander unbuttoned his waistcoat under the dining room table. 

“You’re not fat, you’ve gotta be the boniest person in the world; I feel like I’m fucking a pile of firewood.”  
“Not tonight you don’t” Alexander mumbled disgruntledly, taking another forkful of his dinner. “You refused to touch me since the lake.”

“All a part of the plan.”  
“I don’t like your plans. Never have.”  
Thomas laughed through his nose and took a sip of wine daintily. Alexander watched him. 

“Don’t mock me.”  
“It’s your own fault you don’t get any. You handle your alcohol just as well as you handle national debt.” Alex kicked him under the table for that statement. 

“You know the whole thing would be a lot easier if you and Madison would just provide the votes.” Alexander sighed longingly, wiping his mouth and staring at Thomas. He knew he was starting something but he didn’t stop himself. 

Thomas knitted his fingers, allowing himself to be roped into the sudden politics, “And why would we betray our sentiments and ratify your plan without any cause?”  
“Because there is cause. For the general welfare and common good.”  
“Spoken like a true Classical Republican, Cicero.” 

Alexander leaned in closer, now beginning to get wound up by Thomas’s words, “How do you not get it? You make me wonder, Jefferson, you really do. Your reticence will be the death of us all-” 

“Shut it, Alexander.” Thomas set down his wine glass, growling deep in his chest.  
“You know I’d try seeing things from your point of view, but I can’t seem to get my head that far up my own ass.” 

“ALEXander!” Thomas barked sharply, bringing a palm down on the table. Alex’s eyes darted up to his, startled. 

“We are NOT discussing politics at the dinner table.”  
“Why not?!” Alexander spat right back, not backing down, “I can see it in your eyes, Jefferson. You know we’re going to have to eventually. You know it.” 

Thomas’s eyes flickered for only a moment before his stone-cold glare persisted ruthlessly, “My course of action is none of your business, Hamilton.”  
Alex leaned back in his seat roughly, crossing his arms, shaking his head incredulously, “Your business started being mine way back when you found the Reynolds Letter. When you made those fucking rules.” 

Thomas seethed. “Those rules HAD to be in place; we had already done something that couldn’t be undone.”  
“Yeah the rules that YOU broke. Fuck, you’re breaking them now by hiding whatever’s in that thick head of yours.” 

“I’M hiding something!?” Thomas suddenly stood, chair skidding violently back as he threw his napkin down onto the table with force,  
“Black eye, piss drunk.” Thomas spat in disgust, “You want to hear a piece of my mind? Where were you last night, huh? Where were you!?” 

“That’s none of your-!”  
“None of my business, right. FILTHY hypocrite.” Thomas spat, looking Alex up and down “Who’s that rodent you call a friend… Laurens?” He sneered, watching Alexander boil, “Probably sucked him off behind a whorehouse for your rent money.” 

That’s what did it. 

With a strangled battle cry, Alexander leapt forward, knocking over his chair, and crashed into Thomas sending the two thudding into the dining room wall.  
“SHUT UP! SHUT! UP!” Alex roared, trying to claw at Thomas’s face as they wrestled. Snarls rang through the house. 

Thomas dominated Alexander, slamming his front to the wall, crushing him. “How… dare… you… touch… me!” Thomas barked, shoving the side of Alex’s head to the surface with every word. 

Alexander growled, baring his teeth and twisted, kneeing Thomas in the stomach. The Virginian didn’t feel much pain; it was the disrespect that made him seeth with the most rage he had felt in the time he’d known the little bastard.

Rounding on him, Thomas slammed wrists above his head, suspending them high on the wall. Alex roared, balling his fists uselessly and writing. Thomas rammed his hips onto Alexander’s, a knee on either side of him, holding him firmly in place. 

“HOW DARE YOU!?” Thomas screamed in his face, canines showing threateningly, they were both panting against each other’s bodies, faces red and sweaty already.  
“That’s IT Alexander.” His voice wavered with anger, shaking his head, “You’ve FUCKED up.” He slammed his hips into Alex’s roughly.

“Time’s up, cockslut.” He spat, wet lips impossibly close to Alexander’s as their enraged breath mixed. 

“What’re you gonna do, huh?” Alex grinned mockingly, panting, “You can’t make me say SHIT.” 

“I’ll make you say everything I fucking want.” Thomas leaned in, starting to fervently and savagely rip Alexander’s clothes off with his teeth.  
“You’ll be begging for mercy before I’m halfway finished. You’ll be crying on your knees for pity but will I care?” Thomas yanked Alex’s pants to his knees, not giving him the respect of taking them fully off. 

“No.” Thomas spun him around, jerking his wrists over his head again and pressing the little one’s front to the wall.

“Do… your worst, bastard.” Alexander panted, struggling to turn his head and eye Thomas, hatred crackling in scowl.  
Thomas twitched his eyebrows darkly.

Challenge accepted.

Thomas was already hard, that was no secret as he viciously pressed his length up against Alex’s opening, his pants only at his thighs too. He kicked Alexander’s knees apart from behind, spreading him a bit. 

“Bite something.” Thomas growled heartlessly into his ear, pushing his chest against Alex’s back as he leaned in. Their searing, sweaty skin pressed together. Tilting his head, Alexander got a bit of Thomas’s sleeve in his mouth, clamping down hard on the fabric before he felt it. 

“FUCK!” He roared, head slamming into the wood. Thomas had thrust in, full length, full speed. His hole was so full, so tight. Thomas took no hesitation to begin his brutal thrusts.  
“Watch. Your. Filthy. Mouth.” Thomas barked with each hammering, pounding Alex into the wall. His hips worked fervently with quick thrusts, immediately filling Alexander exactly how he liked it. 

“Oh God, oh God, oh God…!” Alexander chanted, squeaking in time with Thomas’s rhythm. He was so helplessly sensitive, so defenselessly turned on and he wasn’t going to last. He was already so needy from being denied his orgasm earlier… It was at the tips of his fingers, he needed it so bad but it was all up to Thomas, whether he liked it or not. 

Thomas continued his deep, quick thrusts, changing angles slightly to rub Alexander’s sensitive bunch of nerves with every lightning thrust. And he knew exactly when he had hit it. 

“SHIT!” Alexander’s knees buckled for a moment before he caught himself, forehead slamming the wall. He gasped for air, eyes rolling, mouth gaping wide open. “Thomas…!” He gasped, squirming uncontrollably. 

“What?” Thomas spat emotionlessly, open, wet lips, brushing the back of Alexander’s neck as he pounded him. Alexander was rocked by another intense wave of pleasure, head knocking into the wood again as he fell against the wall.  
“I- I... I’m gonna c-cum!” He whimpered, “I’m gonna CUM!” He screamed much more firmly, writhing now, clenching around his partner. 

Thomas laughed and pulled out violently quickly, allowing Alexander no friction or contact as he took his pleasure away all at once. 

“AUGH!” Alexander screamed an animal’s scream, voice cracking as his knees gave out and buckled completely. He collapsed to the floor, eyes rolling back into his head as Thomas supported his wrists above him, looking down to see the whole scene play out. 

Making sure the helpless man was unable to touch himself in any way, Thomas observed how he breathed in shrill little gasps, tears streaming down his face as spasms twitched his body.  
“Huhhhh...uhhhh…” Alexander whimpered between shudders, crossing his knees. 

Thomas’s deep, throaty growl resonated through the room as he lowered himself to Alexander’s level, both of the men still hard. On his knees now, Thomas grabbed Alex’s chin, lips screwed up in rage.

“Tell me where you were last night.” He snarled, shaking the deprived man slightly as his eyes struggled to focus on Thomas’s face.  
“I… not until you tell me what you’re… hiding.” Alex managed, heaving 

Thomas snarled once again, leaning in to manipulate Alexander’s position. He wouldn’t let the immigrant rest until he was through with him, and he knew that his little toy was fucking loving it.  
“Hands and knees like a filthy dog.” Thomas ordered, “You’re going to be sorry for being a dirty, pathetic, good-for-nothing liar.” he shamed as he watched Alexander struggled to rise on his weak, shaking limbs. Falling once and then finally gaining the position, trembling with pleasure and pain. 

“You don’t fucking scare me, Jefferson…” He managed as strongly as he could between exhaustedly gritted teeth.  
“Hngh!” he grunted as his words were immediately met by the punishing cock of his master, sending his elbows straight to the floor, “Ohhh…! fuck!” If Thomas wasn’t digging into his hip bones with an iron grip, he wouldn’t have been able to pull himself back up. 

Wiping spit from his mouth, Alexander rocked repeatedly as he was fucked from behind, back arching appealingly. Thomas knew exactly what he was doing, pulling Alex’s hips back into him as he slammed his cock in and pulling him away as he pulled out was providing for the quickest, deepest fucking of his life. 

Alexander never stood a chance.  
He felt his cum rising up once more, the scorching tendril of heat pulling, nagging in his belly. He squeezed his eyes shut… slowly, slowly, sinking down from his hands to his elbows in melting submission, side of his cheek pressing to the cold floor as he was tossed back and forth. 

“Je-sus... fu-cking... chri-st.” he gasped in short clips, sobbing deeply; he knew it was about to happen. There was no way to stop it. 

Suddenly feeling his muscles clench and seeing his knees jump together, Thomas tore away once again, pulling out and stroking himself as he watched once more. Without any means of friction, Alex collapsed to the floor, too exhausted to scream. 

All he could mage was a choked, strangled, guttural sob as little jerking spasms rocked his body once more, making him squirm slightly as he cried.  
“Fuck!” He barely even heard Thomas's whimper, but he felt the splatter of warm substance on his back, proving that his dom had found his release… unlike his sub.

Thomas watched in cock-drunk ecstasy as Alexander shook, his third orgasm of the day passing above his head… just… out of reach. So fucking, fucking close that it was torture, but never able to give him any satisfaction, any relief. Alexander was ITCHING for it, anyone could see that. 

“Tell me, Alexander.” Thomas whispered lowly, quietly, behind him. The tall man shuffled beside him, lacing his fingers in his sweaty hair and pulling his head up from the floor, neck exposed, “I could do this all night.” Thomas sneered darkly. 

Alexander’s lips trembled, teeth gritted pitifully as he wept. “Oh-kay… oh-kay… oh-kay…” He choked in synch with his sobs, ready to do anything to end the orgasm-torture.  
“I dr-drank at… the bar wi-th my fr-friends… and John walked me ho-o-o-me.” He cried, finally opening his eyes, and Thomas was immediately reassured that the immigrant was completely into this. "I hit my-y eye o-on.. my dresse-e-er." he sobbed.

He sniffled as Thomas lowered his head back to the floor, wiping the cum off his back with a napkin from the nearby dining room table. 

“And that is the truth?” Thomas spoke more gently now, carefully cleaning Alex’s back as he shuddered helplessly.  
“Yes.” he croaked feebly, finally able to keep his eyes open and manage a slightly-wavering tone.

Thomas hummed deep in his throat rubbing his hands down Alexander’s shoulders, massaging him, and then leaning forward to hoist Alex towards him. The Virginian lifted Alex into his lap, leaning against the wall and cradling the little frame. 

“Daddy’s got you.” he cood, accent thick. Alex’s head fell back onto Thomas’s shoulder and the Virginian brushed his sweaty hair away from his face where it had been clinging. “Don’t feel so good, do you, hm?” Thomas pouted sweetly, making sure Alexander was comfortable. 

“Please… Please Thomas, I’m begging you…” he persisted desperately.  
Thomas ignored him, “This is what happens when boys are naughty to their daddy. Do you understand, Alexander?” he spoke firmly but gently.

“Yes, yes… I know… please, please, Thomas.” he urged critically. Thomas finally acknowledged him, looking down passionately into his deep, brown eyes. He cocked his head,  
“you need to cum?” he asked, not looking at Alex’s impossibly hard dick.

“Please…” was all Alexander could manage, desperation growing in his eyes.  
“Alright, mon jouet, I will allow it. How do you want daddy to reward you?” Thomas inquired, planting a soft kiss on his forehead. 

“Want me to fuck your tight little ass again? Make you scream with my tongue?” He purred, pulling away from the kiss as he noticed the little man was… breathing much faster in his arms.

Looking down on him, Thomas noticed his condition changing… His breathing was picking up rapidly, his muscles began to tense up, he trembled very slightly in his arms. Gazing in his urgent face, the Virginian realized what Alexander was trying to tell him. 

Wet lips quivering helplessly, gasping in shrill breaths, Alexander’s eyes brimmed with panic.  
“I’m going to…!” he panted.

“Cum. Now.” Thomas spoke firmly, gazing deep into those desperate eyes. It was the only thing Alexander needed. Back arching to an impossible degree, eyes squeezing closed with the last tears, Alex just… cummed.

Without much more than little whimpers, his cum fell back down on his belly and Thomas’s. 

“Goood boy… gooood boy, shhhh.” Thomas breathed, folding Alexander in closer and rocking him gently through his body-wracking orgasm. It ripped through him so violently. 

“Shhhh…” Alexander jerked once again as another wave of pleasure slammed into him, making him gasp gutturally.  
It seemed to last forever, the twitching and sighing as it tore through him. Thomas held him the whole time,

“bon garçon. C'est d'accord... Je t'ai eu... tu vas si bien.” he uttered quietly in his ear as Alex trembled. 

Soon the whimpers ceased as he finally came down from his high, going limp in Thomas’s arms, head falling back.  
The Virginian clucked his tongue, “Ah, ma chérie.” he purred, gently wiping the tears away with one thumb. “You were such a good boy, so good for me…”

Alexander nestled closer at the praise, “...good for you… always good for you…” he mumbled incoherently. “Yes,” Thomas responded, gathering the little man and getting ready to stand, “You cummed on command. Just because I told you to. Such good manners, mon jouet. Such good manners.” 

Alex wrapped his arms around Thomas’s sweaty neck as he hoisted him up, carrying him through the hallways of the house and into his bathroom where the tub from earlier was still full and clean.  
“I’m going to bathe you now, précieux chéri.” He mumbled, lowering him into the water. 

“Très bien merci. Je suis si bon pour toi, Thomas.” Alex muttered, getting full of himself for the praise he was receiving and also wanting to remind Thomas that he spoke fluent French as well. It was just sexier when Thomas did it, the perfect mix of the erotic language and his slight slanted southern accent. It sounded like sex on the beach. 

Thomas chuckled, and Alexander barely noticed anything as he let his mind float. By the time he had come fully back to earth, he was settled in Thomas’s bed dressed in a thick silk and fur bathrobe, warm and clean. 

Thomas strolled out of the bathroom soon, tying his robe as he gently closed the door and approached the bed. “You’re awake.” he grunted, pulling back the covers and climbing in.  
“Yeah. What, you thought I’d blacked out?” Alex laughed.  
“You should’ve seen yourself. I wouldn’t be surprised.” Thomas scoffed settling himself in behind Alexander, spooning his small figure and stilling with a sigh.

“Christ, Thomas. You’re asking if I’m still awake, grandpa.” Alex snorted.  
“I do all the work.” Thomas dumped a heavy arm over Alexander’s waist, pulling him closer, “I believe a nice, ‘thank you, Thomas’ is in order.” He demanded snootily.  
Alexander rolled his eyes. 

“Thank you Thomas.” he grunted, mocking the Virginian’s low voice like he was a neanderthal, “I really appreciate the obliteration of my ass. I’ve always been fond of not being able to sit down.” 

“Well, you’re very welcome.” Thomas leaned in, planting a warm kiss on the nape of Alexander’s neck.  
“Asshole.” Alexander grumbled, snuggling down into the covers.  
“Twatface.” Thomas mumbled back, shifting his hips in line with Alexander’s. 

The two men were silent for a while, all there was was the sound of deep breathing and the feeling of Thomas’s belly inhaling and exhaling rhythmically against his back. 

“Thomas?” Alex whispered, stirring against him and trying to swivel his head around.  
“Mm?” the Virginian grunted, inhaling deeply. 

“Were you asleep?”  
“Yes. Yes I was, Alexander.” Thomas sighed exasperatedly.  
“Okay well now that you’re awake,” Thomas groaned, rolling his eyes, “-shut it- now that you’re awake, I have a request.” 

Thomas couldn’t believe this guy.  
“Fuck, Alexander, I’ll give you the pony you want if you just let me get one damn minute of rest.”  
Thomas hooked a leg over Alex, anchoring him down as he tried to get out of bed, “Let me go, I need to read.” 

“Read?”  
“Read.”

Thomas hesitated for a moment to emphasize the ludicrousy. “What in the name of fuck do you need to be reading right now?” he guffawed, at a loss of words at this man. Sometimes he had no idea what the hell was going through his head. 

“Have you read ‘Gulliver’s Travels’?” Alex asked, pressing to get out of Thomas’s restraints.  
“No.” he responded. 

This stopped Alexander dead in his tracks.  
“I’m sorry what?” he laughed, turning around to face Thomas directly. On seeing the truth in his eyes, he turned serious and absolutely GAPED.  
“You’ve NEVER read ‘Gulliver’s Travels’?!”  
“No.” 

Alexander rubbed his eyes with his hands, flopping back onto the pillows, taking a moment to comprehend. He looked back at Thomas, pointing.  
“I knew there was something wrong with you, I just couldn’t put my finger on it until now.” 

“Alexander I swear on God-”  
“Do you own it?” Alex interrupted.

Thomas blinked, incredulously, “Probably, I don’t know. Alexander!”  
The little man had squeezed away from him and trotted around the bed, out the door, bare feet padding on the polished wooden floors.  
“Where are you going?” Thomas called, in disbelief at his partner’s sporadic, impulsiveness. He just wanted some goddamn sleep. 

“Take a wild guess!” A voice rang quietly from somewhere in the house. Yep, definitely the library. “This shit in alphabetical order?” Alex called. 

Groaning Thomas banged his head against the headboard several times in frustrated annoyance.  
“Yes, but you need to know the alphabet to find it, Hamilton.”  
“Fuck you!” 

After a couple of minutes, the door creaked open and shut once again, Alexander turned around with an old, tattered book in his hands and a thrilled look on his face. His curly hair fell around his shoulders from the braid that had been released, kinking it.

He held it up and bowed. “Okay, get ready for the night of your life.”  
Thomas propped up on his elbow. “Really? How are you going to give me a handjob while feeding me crème brûlée when you have a stupid book in your hand?” 

Ignoring him, Alexander hopped into bed enthusiastically, bouncing Thomas and the pillows.  
“Christ Alexander.” Thomas growled, re-placing the pillows fusilly. 

The little man nestled himself back into Thomas’s warm body, wiggling his backside up against Thomas’s front. He got comfortable and opened the book to the first chapter, Thomas looking on over his shoulder. 

The Virginian would have just taken the book from him and told him to go the fuck to sleep. Or read somewhere else and sleep on the couch. But… Alexander looked so excited, so thrilled to read to him, that it was unthinkable to say no to him, it might as well be a sin. 

He grumbled, “Fine. One chapter ONLY or I’ll clock you out the old fashioned way. Using that book.”  
Alex smiled, overjoyed, “This is my favorite.” he breathed, getting ready to begin.

Something... shifted in Thomas’s chest unexpectedly, startling him. He didn’t know where it had come from, or why it had so quickly, but he suddenly needed to curl his arm around Alex’s waist again. 

“My father had a small estate in Nottinghamshire: I was the third of five sons.” Alexander began passionately. 

Thomas listened to the words with rapture. He… had never imagined that Alexander could have this side to him. He was not the irrationally angry politician he had always fought with right now. He was filled with an almost childlike joy as his words painted watercolor stories into Thomas’s mind, weaving the threads of Gulliver’s life into the beginning of an elaborate tapestry. 

Without even really thinking about it, Thomas’s fingers snaked around to his belly and worked at the knot of Alexander’s robe, slowly freeing it as the little man read.  
Ever so gently pulling it away from his skin, Thomas let the robe fall down, exposing Alex’s shoulders and belly.

The Virginian was unable to explain why he was doing this; there was simply a tug. There was an urge to feel Alexander, but something about it was different than before… something more deeper set, like an ancient tug at his heart.

Thomas only touched Alexander with the very tips of his fingers reluctantly, his warm skin smooth on contact. He ran his fingertips up and down Alex’s upper arm, just stroking him with his feather-light touch. Testing the waters.  
Alexander tried not to sigh at the peaceful feeling as he read. 

After some time, Thomas dragged his fingers softly over Alexander’s collarbone, brusing each one lightly before skimming down his chest, ghosting over his nipples. He carefully stroked Alexander’s belly, memorizing the curves and dips of his belly button. He took extra care of his sharp hip bones, spending time to caress them and make Alex shiver slightly. 

Thomas journeyed lethargically around to Alexander’s smooth back, mapping every curve of his spine with docile fingertips and tracing the edges of his shoulder blades over and over again. His deep brown eyes watched his own movement curiously as he caressed his body and his shoulders.  
He was memorizing Alexander’s body. Mapping his skin so gently. He didn’t understand it, but somehow it was right. 

“...allowed me to creep in, and lie at my full length in the temple.” Alexander finished the first chapter quietly, carefully closing the book to set it by his pillow. There was complete silence as Thomas’s fingertips brushed the back of Alexander’s neck lightly, over and over again. 

Alex sighed and closed his eyes. “Please don’t stop touching me…” he breathed settling his head down to rest. Thomas did not respond, only continued his slow, gentle motion…

Alexander’s breathing found a deeper place in only a few minutes as the little immigrant fell asleep. 

But Thomas followed his request long after his partner had drifted off, fragile eyelids twitching with dreams. The Virginian watched him carefully.  
How could anyone be so peaceful?

He pulled him ever-so-slightly closer, needing an anchor as his own thoughts whirled through his head like a summer rainstorm, thunder and all. 

And all at once, he stilled them.  
They fell hushed, awaiting his next words.

“I love you too.” He whispered. So quietly that nobody could hear what he had said.

And that nobody ever would.


	27. A Compromise and a Mistake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alexander makes a dangerous proposition to Thomas who cannot resist the temptation... As the two begin to get things in order for the Compromise between them and Madison, Alexander misses an important celebration night for John. His friend has finally had too much of Alexander's selfishness; he misses his best friend... In his resentment and frustration, he tells Lafayette and Hercules at the celebration... but someone had come a few minutes earlier and filled Alexander's seat for the big reveal. Nobody else other than Aaron Burr...   
The secret isn't out to anyone but them.  
But in the hands of Burr, who knows what he will do with it now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! The plot thickens! :D

Consciousness crept back into Thomas’s bones as the sunrise warmed his skin, illuminating the hairs. His ears tuned to the morning sounds of birds chirping in his gardens, insects singing. Taking in a deep breath, he rubbed his face and hummed. 

“Get up, Alex, I’m not letting you sleep in-” His groggy morning voice trailed off as he lowered his hands to see the white, crumpled sheets next to him completely empty. Looking over the pile of pillows he saw Alex’s robe discarded on the floor.   
“Little shit…” He mumbled rolling his eyes. 

He knew Alex hadn’t up and left. He’d been here before. The idiot was probably off putting his fingers on something fragile that was worth more than his house. 

Thomas rolled out of bed, and stretched a sore left shoulder as he mosied to the bathroom, observing his broken lip from the day before as he brushed his teeth and his hair. He always had smooth hair. 

He took his time on an outfit despite the fact that he didn’t have to work on Sundays. If the man ever looked shabby, the world would be falling into apocalyptic decay. Even then he’d probably still find time to place the whites cravat around his throat and the most handsome waistcoat on his attractive frame.

Now where were his shoes? 

He pushed open the joint door between his study bedroom revealing the semi-circular space with windows looking over the west gardens. The red curtains were open revealing his desk and bookshelves. And…

“Secretary Jefferson.” Alexander sat leisurely draped on HIS chair, feet propped up on the desk like he owned it. “Come in.” he smiled sweetly. 

Thomas started, confused. What…?  
He played his signature collected facade.

“Alexander, what is this?” He drawled boredly, stopping inside the doorframe. 

“It’s a meeting. Do sit down.”   
Alex leaned back in his chair, THOMAS’S chair, and gestured kindly to the one across from it.  
Thomas approached slowly, lowering down with a calculative air about him. Alex’s hair was brushed neat and pinned back. His outfit was the same as yesterday, of course, but clean. 

“May I inquire as to what the fuck you are doing, Alex?” Thomas questioned eloquently, exhaling as he crossed his arms.   
“It’s a meeting, Secretary Jefferson. Like I’ve stated before.” Alexander slid a piece of parchment across the desk with his fingertips.

Thomas glanced at it out of the corner of his eye, picking a tooth offhandedly.   
“Compromise of 1790 Plan.” He read, boredly. “Never heard of it.” 

“Ah.” Alexander lifted his feet from the desk, planting them on the floor deliberately. Staring Thomas in the eyes, he leaned forward in his seat, “That would be because it doesn’t exist yet.” 

Thomas raised an eyebrow quizzically.   
Alex sighed wistfully “But it will.” he studied his nails and then looked back up at Thomas, gaze sparkling with cunning mischief, “by the time we leave this room.” 

Then Thomas caught onto it. This fucking kid. 

His lips parted as he looked up at the ceiling in exasperated realization. The bastard wasn’t letting go of their discussion last night. He’d said that they’d need to deal with the politics eventually, but now Thomas realized he wasn’t bluffing. 

“No.” Thomas laughed, playing it off as a ludicrous joke.   
“Yes.” A quill was pushed towards him. He stared, shaking his head slowly, still smiling in disbelief.  
“You think I’d sign over my whole party’s beliefs to you in one day with no precedent cause?”

“Read the title once more. What does it say, Secretary Jefferson, I implore you.” 

Alex watched him devilishly as he read and looked back up, not answering the question with words as much as expression.   
Alex pushed the quill again and Thomas reluctantly picked it up, twirling it boredly. 

“And what do you possibly have to offer me in return?” he smiled, ready to amuse himself. He bit the end of the quill, smirking. 

Alexander smiled in return, leaning back in the seat, “I’ve got weight with the boss. The big man, the only one who’s opinion will get you what you want.” Alexander crossed his arms slowly, “Washington.” He breathed. 

Thomas looked on cooly, hiding his growing interest in this conversation. Washington.

Alexander stared on, flames smoldering in his eyes, “I see a beautiful marble city, Jefferson. Some quartz if you like, yes? Corinthian columns.” Alex looked up at the ceiling wistfully, painting the picture for Thomas. “A Roman-style Capitol, basilicas for Congress and one just for the State department.” He paused, letting Jeffeson mull that over. 

“Monuments gazing out…” He lowered his gaze back down to Thomas’s, locking them, “over the shimmering waters of the Potomac.” 

There was a long quiet pause.  
Alexander watched, same grin on his face, as Thomas’s eyes darted down to the parchment and back, flickering. 

“I put in my word with Washington. You get Madison to provide the votes for my plan.” Alex continued in slow deliberation, picking up his own quill, “It’s that simple.” He breathed enticingly, sweet talking Thomas into it as if he didn’t want to scare him away. 

“I’m willing to give up the Capitol to break the stalemate. I’m willing to compromise for the good of the people.” Alex pushed the paper closer to Thomas carefully, “If you are.” 

There was a silence.  
The two stared at each other for a long time. Thomas slowly, meticulously spun his quill in two fingers under the desk. He was thinking. And thinking hard. The grandfather clock ticked. 

After a considerable amount of time, Thomas exhaled deeply, throwing the quill onto the desk. Alexander started a bit, surprised.  
“You’ve forgotten one important detail, Hamilton.” Thomas crossed his arms and leaned back. 

“And what would that be?” Alexander followed up smoothly, cocking an eyebrow.   
“Our… situation.” Alexander gestured for elaboration. Thomas’s tongue poked the inside of his cheek sexily, Alexander had to look away to keep up his professional stance.

“We put together a plan now and propose it to Madison, he’ll know we met without him. Alone. What kinds of questions do you think are going to arise from that?” He implored, slowing down to emphasize.   
“Thomas Jefferson and Alexander Hamilton, the most notorious enemies of the century, suddenly sit down for a tea party and put aside their differences?” Thomas smiled, “I don’t think so.” 

Alexander lifted his hands in an innocent, understanding gesture, “Alright, I see where you’re coming from; I do. So we re-do this whole thing with Madison. I can make that work.”

Thomas considered him, all power in his hands, as usual. He had to admit to himself… the temptation of the capital in the palm of his hand was mouth watering… God, he had such a thing for power, Alexander knew that. 

“I can talk to Madison. See what I can do.” He grunted.  
Alexander’s eyebrows twitched, an involuntary smirk flickering across his face, flashing his white canines. “So you’re in.” he breathed. 

Thomas’s lips pulled into a slight smirk as he leaned forward against the desk, brown eyes cooly unwavering. “For the good of the people, Alexander. I am if you are.” he repeated Alexander’s own words, brows pulling in dangerously. 

Alexander exhaled quickly, smiling. “Just put your glasses on, goddamn it.” he sputtered, shaking his head in wonder as he watched Thomas comply smugly, placing the sexy frames over his face. 

“Fuck…” Alex whispered as he carefully, slowly, crawling up onto the desk and across it towards Thomas. Their brown eyes locked, Thomas keeping Alexander’s pace in check with his authoritative, dominant stare.  
As he got close, Thomas reached up and snagged Alex’s cravat in a flashing moment of heat, a fiery standoff. Then he yanked the little man’s mouth to his, licking hotly into his mouth, lapping as far back as he could reach. A muffled moan was all Alexander could manage as he burrowed his tongue deep under Thomas’s, roughly. 

Things had gone exactly as planned for the little Treasurer. 

He smirked maliciously against Thomas’s hungry, wet tongue. 

**

Glass clinked as Thomas poured himself another small glass of brandy. He didn’t usually drink brandy, a wine man, but tonight it would do. 

He leaned back in his chair, grunting as the wicker creaked a bit. He lifted his feet up onto the porch swing and crossed them leisurely, shuffling to get comfortable again. 

The Virginian held up his glass and swirled it, sniffing aristocratically at the contents before tilting his head back to down it in one go. Blinking vigorously for a moment, he exhaled; it was strong. But could handle his liquor like a big boy.

Thomas was holding the thick brandy bottle in the other hand and tilted it over the lip of the glass with a clink once more. Golden liquid flowed and Thomas stared into it. He hated to admit that he was doing this but at least he wasn’t drinking straight from the bottle, he reasoned with himself. Some dignity was preserved. 

The Secretary of State sighed and downed the next glass. Swallowing, he licked his lips as he gazed out into the dusk falling over his estate. Crickets and cicadas were beginning their nighttime concerto. 

For the evening he had been mulling over the events of the morning. After Alexander had left for the day, he had gotten up, read poetry by his gardens. Taken his horse for a ride in the woods. Had dinner. It was his usual version of the perfect Sunday, tranquil, calm. Sure, sometimes he’d have James over or some other friends, but the solitude was peaceful. At least it usually was.

He sighed once more turning the glass over in his hands slowly, observing the dips and curves. What had he just done? 

Today he’d agreed to the most important political compromise of their nation. He’d signed over on debt assumption for the capital of the United States of America. This was huge… so huge. And now there was no backing out at he heard, through the house, the knock on his door. 

“Shi-” he hopped up wondering how the time had passed so quickly, and frantically hid the bottle behind a pillow cushion. He straightened his clothes as best as he could. James couldn’t see him like his, nobody could. 

And Thomas felt… off as he approached the front door through his manor. He’d felt off all evening. Why else would he be drinking-- drinking BRANDY-- alone on a particular porch swing? Only one answer was apparent, Thomas wasn’t stupid. 

It was what he had said last night. What had slipped out of his lips as nothing more than a ghost of breath, but he had said it. He’d shoved it down, packed it in as much as he could, but as he had continued his day as normal it felt strange knowing Alexander wasn’t under his supervision.   
His question now was, did he believe himself. Had he believed what he said? 

Thomas stood tall, naturally. Shoulders back, chin in the air as he pulled open the door. His attractive, blonde influence in the House of Representatives stood before him, smiling lightly. 

“Tom. You wanted to meet.” he inquired politely. Thomas opened the door a bit wider, smirking.

“Madison, come in.” he resounded crisply, Southern accent carefully put to the side,  
“I have quite the proposition to introduce.” 

**

There was a warm chorus of cheers and catcalls as the huge roast beef was placed in the middle of the table, smokey and steaming, the juices dripping off. 

“Guys, for real.” John laughed in touched embarrassment as the waiter backed off but other milling members of the tavern took a look as they chattered.   
“Don’t start with the ‘you shouldn’t have’, ‘let me pay you back’ bullshit, kay, John?” Hercules whined, mocking John’s voice. “It’ll distract us from eating.” 

“Guys… this is so fucking nice.” John observed as Hercules, and Lafayette were already digging into the meat happily.   
“Well, all joking aside. We are happy for you, man.” Lafayette looked him in the eyes seriously.   
“Yeah bro. That’s a big deal. Head of Intelligence Committee in Charleston under fucking Nathanael Greene. You worked your ass off.”   
“Yeah but,”  
“Just shut up and let us eat.” The two laughed and started to cut off slices before Lafayette parried away Hercules’s knife with his own, looking up to John.

He paused. “Wait, what about Hams?” 

Silence fell over the table.  
John looked up too, eyes suddenly cold and walled-off. “What about him?” He said, his words coming out a bit harsher than he intended.   
Hercules and Lafayette looked at each other for a fleeting moment before returning to John. 

“Eez a beeg moment, no? Shouldn’t we wait for heem?” Lafs continued carefully.   
“Yeah man, he’s probably just late. You know how Hams gets with his work.” 

“Yeah.”John mumbled into the mouth of his beer, taking a sip, “I do.” He set it down and licked his lips, readdressing the boys. 

“You know what, you’re both right. We’ll wait for him to show up. He will; this is important.” He spoke confidently, trying not to scoff. He didn’t really even know what he was trying to prove to himself.   
“We wait.” he concluded, sitting back in his chair as Lafayette and Herc exchanged another quick glance and returned to their drinks. The awkward silence didn’t last too long, though. 

“Gentlemen.” A cunning voice sounded through the clangs and cheers of the tavern. 

“Burr.” John tried to restate some enthusiasm into his tone, failing miserably. The towering man stepped towards their table, pulling his hat from his head.  
“Laurens. I came to say congratulations on your new position.” he smiled down at them, nodding crisply. He acknowledged the huge roast beef with rapture,  
“And a good looking meal. Haven’t touched it, eh?” he inquired in a friendly manner. 

“No. We haven’t.” John clipped, looking up with a tight, strained smile, almost begging someone to ask. He had no idea what he was after, why was he doing this? He wanted Alexander to show up... didn’t he? 

Burr laughed nervously and coughed, looking around the table. 

“Well.” He began turning his hat around in his hands, “I should be off.”   
“No.” John, looked up again, slightly starling Burr. “Stay.” 

Lafs and Herc looked at each other, surprised, and then John, but his eyes were trained on Burr.   
“That seat is wide open.” he spoke coldly, gesturing to the one empty seat at their usual table. Alexander’s seat. 

“If you insist.” Burr smiled his greasy smile and rounded the table as the other two friends were unsure of what to say. There was some silence as Burr settled and was brought a fresh beer. Herc sniffed. The regular activity continued in the tavern around them but there was silence at the usually most-vibrant table. 

“So…” The snake began, setting his seidel down on the wood, “missing one if I count correctly.” Burr noted, raising an eyebrow.   
“Yeah, man. Ham’s up in the Treasury office late or sum.” Herc wiped his mouth.  
John audibly snorted, drawing the attention of the rest of the group who gave him curious looks. A silence fell over the friends. 

“Is he... going to come?” Burr inquired slowly. He had caught onto a scent of something, a tiny ripple of blood in the water. He perked up at the hint.   
“Yeah he’s just late.”   
“He’s not coming.” John clipped shortly, picking up his beer. There was a harshness in his voice that had crossed the line, the other two just had to address it.

“What’s up with you man? Why you talkin’ on Alex like that?” Hercules spoke, voice edged with protection.   
“Yeah, what gives.” Lafayette joined in, crossing his arms. John was calmer than they were, setting his glass back down at the table and looking at them in the eyes. 

“He’s not coming.” He said again, louder this time, “Get the job of my life and he’s not gonna show.”  
“Hams is late all the time.”   
“Why’ve you got a stick up your ass?”

John looked as if he would lash back a retort, but he exhaled deeply instead, an icy calm settling on his face. A pained hurt flashed in his eyes, a resentful look of disappointment. Burr looked on with complete rapture, clinging into every word, every facial expression, every body movement. Something was close; he could feel it. 

John finally spoke after long, agonizing moments of silence. His face was stone cold.   
“You want the truth?” He sighed defeatedly, looking across his friends. They nodded reluctantly, almost hesitantly. What was this? 

“Alexander is having an affair. He is cheating on his wife. And he has been all summer.” 

Time stopped. 

The silence was deafening.

The two friends' jaws dropped, John could almost see their stomachs wrenching. Burr was the only one who’s corner of his mouth pulled up into a light smile.

There it was. 

“Alex wouldn’t-”  
“He told me himself, man. Hate to burst your bubble.” John snapped at Lafs, somehow feeling better at their reactions, at their utter shock. Is this what he wanted? Is this what he was after? It… didn’t feel right.

“He always comes to Sunday dinner. For years. This summer he hasn’t done shit, so I went over to his house after the protest last weekend. He was gone at seven o clock. Come back the next day and confront him, and he cracks.” John shrugged as if the whole thing was obvious.

“Spilled it all and he said he’d tell you guys. I thought he would.” John put emphasis on it, hoping for some absurd reason that it would hurt Lafayette and Hercules that Alex hadn’t told them. The two looked down at their shoes, trying to take this in, trying to understand the shock. 

“But he… who?” Lafs sputtered, falling apart a bit. 

“Didn’t say. Must be someone important or wouldn't've been a big deal. And you know what?” John forced the two to look up at him once more. He smiled incredulously, crossing his arms, “He told me he’d ended it. That it was over.” He looked up at the ceiling and laughed, shaking his head. 

“Good one Alex. Really got me there.” 

Hercules and Lafayette both slowly looked in their laps like it held the answers they were looking for. Several minutes of silence passed… it was like everything was coming down around them but where they were, everything was still. Besides Burr. 

His mind was anything but slow-motion. It was working at the most rapid pace wheels turning on greased gears. This was… this was what he had been waiting for. All that he had been waiting for. Living life off of Alexander Hamilton’s leftover scraps, this is the golden ticket of opportunity, sweet, sweet revenge already at the tip of his tongue. 

And yet… something told the slimy man that there was something else… some other secret festering in the woodwork of this mystery. 

“I… should go.” Burr began reluctantly, trying not to put any emotion with his words as he eased his hat back onto his head, glancing around. Nobody looked at him, they were still focused on their laps. 

He stood quietly and opened his mouth to say something but decided otherwise. There was nothing to say. He needed to get home…   
There was work to do. 

The mysterious senator skirted back around the silent, tense, table and looked over his shoulder at the friends, one empty chair, and the cold meal that was never touched...


	28. Reward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alexander receives a letter... from Eliza, and what she has to say is shocking, sending Alex running to Thomas's house because the subject of the letter concerns the both of them... Thomas is far less concerned than Alexander, using the fact that they have been "playing around" for a week now, a little anniversary, to take Alex's mind off the letter. He agrees to a reward for his sub, Alexander gets to request whatever he wants. For one night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! I was out of town! Thanks for being patient, and read on! 😊

Alexander groaned at his early wake-up time and moaned all the way down the stairs as he groped blindly, limply for a glass of water and some bread from the copper bread-pot. He was still groaning, head flopped all the way back as he dragged himself to the door to check the mail. He didn’t care if the neighbors saw how he was in the mornings, they could kiss his Caribbean ass if they had a problem. 

“Stupid, stupid, stupid, probably stupid…” Alex grumbled, eyes still half closed as he sifted through the letters, shuffled back into the house. He pulled the door closed behind him with his foot and hauled himself sleepily to the couch, flinging down on it gratefully.

He dropped the letters one by one, not reading anything more than the sender’s name as he yawned lazily. Too fucking early for this. Too early. He’d been up all night writing pans and ideas for the Compromise. But as the next letter fell away, the one under it caught his eye. He squinted in the early morning light to see the delicate, thin cursive that he recognized well. 

He lurched with an unpleasant barrage of mixed emotions. It was from Eliza.   
She tried to send him a letter every two weeks but he’d completely forgotten. Shit… why was he feeling so nervous? It was like she could see him right now through this letter, see everything he’d done. Exhaling shakily, he opened the letter gingerly and brought the parchment close to his face for observation.

“My dearest Alexander, 

I apologize for the tardiness of this letter; the postal service was delayed because of the rain this past week, so I couldn’t get anything through. I know you are not upset, however. You love the rain, indeed I know that. 

Things have been proceeding as usual up here; it is breathtakingly beautiful upstate. I wish you could have come, Alexander, you would love the lake. I take a walk every day around it and hate to admit that I always think of you. I miss you so dearly, Alexander, Angelica misses you too; however, she has quite the opinion on your decision to stay. My sister and her sharp tongue. 

But this past week has been easier for me to cope with the longing, I must say. You won’t believe me when I tell it, but I have met someone upstate that I never would have thought I would run into.

My father’s house is surrounded by other large estates, as you know, and on a particularly long walk I encountered a woman about my age, fair and blonde and extremely well-spoken. Did you know that Martha Jefferson had come upstate for the summer?” 

At these words Alexander’s heart had taken an intense lurch in an unexpected direction.  
He scrambled to sit up on the couch, leaning towards the light. What the fuck?

Breathing shortly, he fumbled with the letter moving his fingers back to his place, wide eyes bulging. He read again, silently mouthing the words. 

“Fair, blonde, and extremely well-spoken. Did you know that Martha Jefferson had come upstate for the summer?” 

He leaned forward even more, heart rate quickening with every word as he continued to scan the letter, reading into every word frantically. 

“I did not. Anyway, after our first meeting and round around the lake, we just… began to make it a little ritual every day. After our walks and deepening conversations, I invited her over home for some dinner. It was the most lovely time I’ve had in ages. She promised to return the favor with dinner at the Jefferson’s manor. 

I know your feelings about Thomas Jefferson, Alexander. But think of the opportunities. Perhaps a nice dinner could settle some tension between you men? No matter what, Alexander, it would make your wife happy. I have met a friend who is quickly becoming dear to me, and if our companionship could ease some rivalries, would that be enough? 

Thinking of you always, my dearest husband. 

Love,   
Elizabeth Hamilton.” 

Alexander sat still for some long moments after he’d finished, letting each word sink into his head. The only sound was the ticking of his grandfather clock in his office down the hall. He set the letter down gently on the short table and ever so slowly leaned forward to place his elbows on his knees. 

Hands cupping his nose and mouth, his foot bounced anxiously. What did this mean?  
The Treasurer cast a glance down the hall, checking the clock. It was time to go to work, that was for sure, but he felt frozen. 

He breathed in and out deeply, closing his eyes.   
There was no doubt about it. He’d hid what he’d let slip to Burr from Thomas, but this… this was stranger than that, not so blatant and dangerous. But it could be…

The immigrant folded the letter carefully into his pocket, not looking at it as he did so. He knew exactly where he was headed after work today. This involved Thomas. 

**

Thomas’s hips shifted expertly along with his horse’s rocking movements, holding the reins loosely and leaning back in the saddle. Thomas and his handsome black steed, Tarquin, both appreciated the loose control today. 

It had been an extremely busy day at the State Department, there was no doubt about that. He had been up to his neck in meetings with rather insufferable people, but he was an incredibly collected man; he could tolerate uncivilized politicians all day if it meant a ride in the woods. 

It was cool today, August had been growing cool as soon as it began, but the birds still twittered to each other in the canopy above, and sunlight still dappled the forest floor beneath Tarquin’s neatly smithed hooves. 

Thomas patted his dark neck gently as the horse snorted rhythmically with every step. They were approaching the white-brick stables and the Virginian always made sure to praise him for a pleasant ride. 

Dismounting with a grunt and some dust, Thomas slid off his strong stallion and regained the reins, leading Tarquin towards his spacious, airy stall, other horses whinnying, snorting and tossing their heads playfully at his approach. 

He opened the white, wooden door and turned the animal around, following in and tying him. Thomas always untacked his horses, it was just something he always sort of took upon himself. He would think of it as peasant, stable-lad’s work if he didn’t have a special connection with the animals. Being around them was so peaceful and relaxing; they are so gentle and quiet. And when they are not, they are expressive, always up front with their intentions and fears. 

“If only politicians were like horses…” he mumbled, hauling the leather tack to the tack room and returning with his state-of-the-art grooming set from France, reserved only for Tarquin. 

“Hello my handsome prince.” Thomas praised, rubbing affectionately down Tarquin’s nose with a thick, firm hand. The horse nudged into his belly insistently, making Thomas laugh at his display.

“You love me buddy?” He asked sweetly, smiling with a twinkle in his eye as he scratched at his forelock between his ears.   
“Or love carrots?” He jested, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out two large carrot halves that Tarquin took immediate interest in.

“I see how it is.” Thomas laughed as he offered them to his animal, who’s velvety wet lips nibbled them up in enthusiasm.   
Thomas moved around his steed’s powerful, sleek body and began to brush, Tarquin still munching contentedly at his treat. 

“Why don’t you treat me like that?” 

Thomas spun around so quickly he almost careened over the stable door.

“A-Alexander?” He spat in disbelief. He was correct.   
The little man was leaning, arm crossed over the stall door, watching him with a thrilled, twelve-year-old look on his face that said, “I’m telling everyone you talk to horses.” 

“That’s my name.” He nodded, still smiling. Thomas scoffed, cocking his head haughtily.   
“Sorry, but what the fuck are you doing at my house?” he sneered, still mostly in shock. 

“Watching you treat that animal like it’s the King of France.” Alex shook his head, laughing.   
“You talk to your horses often?” he asked, amusing himself. 

“You trespass often?” Thomas retorted, returning to brushing firm strokes town Tarquin’s neck, already frustrated with the insufferable nuisance and heart rate thumping from the surprise. Alex stood from his leaned position, “Why don’t I get that treatment?” he half-complained. 

“The horse costs more than you.” Thomas grumbled shortly, crossing to the other side. Alex hopped up to sit on the stable door, “So the animal gets hand-fed snacks and complimentary grooming service and I get a smack in the face and a rental carriage ride home?”   
“Pretty much.”   
“Fuck you.” 

“If you’re gonna keep mouthing off, smart-aleck, I suggest you make yourself useful.” Thomas growled, approaching Alexander and smacking a brush into his hand forcefully. “Help out or piss off.” Alex looked down at the brush, then back up at Thomas. 

“No fucking way.”   
“Alexander.”   
“Not a fucking chance in hell.” 

“Alexander... are you afraid of horses?” Thomas interrogated, a mocking smile threatening the corners of his mouth. 

“No.” Alex dismissed.   
“Then get your whore-ass in here.” 

“I just don’t like them.”   
“Look at my face. Does this look like a face that cares?” Thomas sneered cruelly, returning to his horse. Alexander reluctantly realized he was going to lose this one, but he wouldn’t go down without forcing something out of Thomas. 

“The price to do your dirty work is one kiss.” Alexander crossed his arms. 

“No.” Thomas grunted shortly, lifting Tarquin’s hoof to pick it of stones. Alex sighed,  
“Alright, have fun pulling the ticks off that fleabag.” 

“‘It’ has a name. Tarquin. And insult the horse one more time and you’re scooping the shit.”   
“One kiss and I won’t insult your ‘handsome prince’.” he quoted Thomas obnoxiously. 

The Virginian stopped and stood letting out a snarl of rage and turned back towards the smiling Alexander.   
“You’re an insufferable sack of shit and I despise you.” he hissed, approaching, “One kiss for you to close your damn mouth.” But Alexander still beaming happily in his small victory. 

“Do it for me.” Alexander invited, gripping the edge of where he was sitting and leaning forward, finally taller than Thomas for one rare instance in his life. Thomas rolled his eyes and stepped forth, placing a hand on Alex’s thigh and pressing his lips that fit nicely onto Alexander’s. They stayed for a moment like that, but Thomas pulled away just as the little man began to lick hotly into his mouth. 

“Asshole.” he grumbled, hopping down from the stall door.   
“What was that? Can’t hear you over the sound of you doing as you’re told.” Thomas taunted coldly. 

Alexander jumped a bit when Tarquin tossed his head, trying to see the little man better. Beginning to round the animal as if on eggshells, the horse nudged his nose firmly into Alexander’s belly. 

“Thomas! What’s it doing?”   
“You tell me.” his partner grumbled uncaringly, not facing him as he picked a back hoof leisurely. 

“It’s attacking my stomach, I don’t know what it wants.” Alex had his arms up and out of the way, cringing, “Just come over goddamnit!”   
“You have three seconds to calm the fuck down before I slap you into next week.” Thomas sneered, setting the foot down and approaching. He stopped to observe.

“For fuck’s sake, Alexander, he just likes you.”   
“Likes me?!”   
“Yes. Are you quite deaf?” 

“It’s attacking me.”   
“HE is nuzzling to show affection. God, get that fucking stick out your ass.” Thomas scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Just stroke his nose to show him you’re a friend.”   
“Hell no.”   
“Alex…” Thomas warned in his dark, watch-your-attitude tone. 

Alexander whimpered uselessly at the command, he knew the tone left no room for misbehavior. Thomas wouldn't allow it. 

Squeamishly, Alexander reaches out his fingertips with hesitance, grimacing sharply as Tarquinius moved to meet him. The little man exhaled slowly as he began to run the velvety, soft nose, the hairs tickling his hand. Alex laughed. 

“Hey there, fleabag.” He spoke sweetly, moving closer.   
“Was that the fucking end of the world?” Thomas sneered. 

“Yep. Sky falling.”   
“Alex-”  
“Going dark.” 

Thomas smacked his butt playfully as he rounded the other side of the horse. 

“Did you need something?” he spoke, brushing the horse with long strokes.   
“What?” Alex quizzed, top of his head peeking over Tarquin’s flank.   
“Let me rephrase that, what the hell are you here for?” Thomas leaned over his steed relaxedly. 

“Do I need a reason to come over?”   
“Yes.”   
“You get to barge into my house and drag me over here for booty-calls.”   
“Also yes.”   
“So I can too.”   
“Wrong.” Thomas came to the front of Tarquin and released him from his halter, not looking at Alexander as he picked up his grooming set and exited the stall. “You all quite aware at this point that you are my toy, Alexander. You’re insufferable but you’re not stupid. Why are you here.” 

Alex followed, struggling to keep up as they approached the path back up to the house. 

“Okay, you got me.” Alexander panted, falling behind. “I’ll tell you if you wait!” he hollered at Thomas ahead of him.

The tall Virginian rolled his eyes, and strode back to his little partner, scooping him up in his arms and trudging on forward.  
“Prick.” Thomas spat quietly. Alexander only hummed and settled his chin on Thomas’s shoulder, nuzzling into his neck for the ride. 

When they entered the quiet house, Thomas carried him through the entrance hall and dumped him on a couch in the parlor, a little less-than-gently.   
“Sit. Getting bread.” he clipped, strolling to the side door that connected to the dining room. He was back in a moment with a plate as he sat down on the chair facing him, leaning back and crossing his legs. 

“Any for me, man?” Alex asked annoyedly.   
“Collateral.” Thomas answered, “Be a good boy and make this quick and you get food.”   
“You’re despicable.”   
“And you’re quickly losing privileges.” 

“Alright, alright.” Alexander held off Thomas’s banter with one hand and fished into his pocket with the other. He pulled out the letter as Thomas sat silently, tracking his movement with his cold, steely eyes. 

Alexander sighed, “I’m going to need to warn you that this… It’s…” he looked for the right word, “unexpected. Shockingly ironic.” he spoke, unfolding it.  
“Thomas, you’re going to need to be prepared for this.” He sighed, rubbing a hand over his mouth quickly. 

“I’m prepared for everything, Alexander. Don’t insult me.” Thomas sneered, “Get on with it.” 

Alex exhaled through puffed cheeks, keeping eye contact with the dominant gaze as he handed over the letter. “It’s from Eliza.” Thomas took the parchment slowly, “My wife.” Alexander spoke, the words sounding so incredibly uncomfortable on his tongue. Thomas’s gaze regarded Alexander for one more moment before pulling his glasses out of his coat and placing them on his face, reading the words slowly. 

Alexander watched as his deep brown eyes scanned the page, not revealing the slightest hint of emotion as he finished. He placed the parchment down on his knee, knitting his fingers and cocking his head. 

“And why are you so worked up about this?” Thomas drawled exasperatedly. 

Alex gaped, “Our… wives met each other, Thomas. Not only that, they’re FRIENDS.” Alexander waited for a reaction. He scoffed when there was none, “How is this not of any importance to you?” 

“So. What. Alexander.” Thomas enunciated every word, uncrossing his legs and leaning back, placing his index fingers over his lips. “You’re acting like a fucking child.” 

“They want to have DINNER. HERE.” Alexander tried to move along his point desperately, gesturing to the space around them, “With us.”   
“Oh, pull yourself together man, would it be so difficult for you to not beg for sex for one damn night.” 

“But- but our wives met. Our WIVES… why the fuck is that so weird to say…”   
“Alexander Hamilton stop talking.” Thomas ordered sternly, calm, steely eyes boring into his own. “Come here.” He commanded in exactly the same tone. 

Speechless, mind still racing on his previous thoughts, Alex rose and approached.   
“Up. Now.” Thomas patted his lap, letter on the floor now as he guided Alexander onto his body, facing him and holding the little one’s thighs gently.   
He ran his hands up and down rhythmically, massaging. 

“You need to fucking relax. Nothing’s happened anywhere but in your head.”

“But when they come back-”  
“We’re not having that discussion.” Thomas cut him off incredibly quickly, digging his nails briefly into Alex’s thighs to make him gasp and stop talking. 

“I don’t want to hear about it, am I perfectly clear?” he spoke ever-so-evenly, cold tone making Alexander shiver.   
“Yes.” he whispered in response.   
“Good boy.” Thomas praised tenderly, placing a feather-light kiss on Alex’s nose. The little man squirmed joyously a bit at the kind treatment. 

“Besides, today is a day to be celebrating, no? Do you know what day it is, Alexander?” Thomas cooed into Alex’s ear, planting another kiss right in front of his ear. 

“Monday, yeah?” Alexander breathed.   
“That’s right. And what happened last Monday?” Alexander paused, pulling away from Thomas quickly, shockedly. 

“No. No way.” he was smiling, thrilled.   
“What?” Thomas looked about, confused. The man on his lap stayed trained on his eyes. 

“It’s our fuck-iversary!” he exclaimed, completely seriously. Thomas stared at him for a moment.   
“I’m going to pretend the words ‘fuck-iversary’ didn’t just come out of your mouth.” he warned in disgust.

“But it’s what you mean, isn’t it?” Alex asked the question rhetorically.   
“Yes, but-”  
“Fuck-iversary!” he exclaimed again now that he’d gotten his point across. Thomas face-palmed, struggling desperately not to laugh. 

Alex reached behind him and grabbed a piece of bread, holding it in the air as if it was a glass of champagne, “A toast,” he wiped a fake tear, “to my dearest Thomas on this beautiful fuck-iversary. It seems only yesterday he was obliterating my asshole… oh wait ...” Alexander laughed out loud before Thomas swept him up and body slammed him down onto the couch, pinning him down and tickling him ruthlessly. 

Thomas couldn’t hold back his laughing now as he watched Alex try to writhe and squirm away from him, screaming at the fingers under his shirt.   
“Thomas! Thomas stop stop! Thomas!” he begged, laughing so hard no sound was coming out other than breathless wheezes. Thomas indulged himself for a few more seconds before letting up, now sitting on top of Alexander, straddling him. 

Alex panted exhaustively under him, still laughing short, breathless giggles as he tried to settle down. “I-I-...” he panted.   
“Take your time.” Thomas mocked. The immigrant finally was able to speak.

He sighed “I think I should get a little gift for today, hmm?” he put on his best pouty face for Thomas. The Virginian wasn’t buying it. He raised a dark eyebrow.

“For what? First prize ribbon for biggest bitch in the Tri-state area?”   
“Compensation, Thomas, it’s only fair.” 

Thomas squinted down at him, puzzled. “What the fuck are you talking about?” He'd thought Alex was just joking to flirt. The guy was serious.

“Don’t you think I deserve it?” Alex squirmed a little, trying to stir Thomas a bit, “I’ve been so good and you owe me.” 

Thomas leaned back, considering him “Owe you. How do I owe you.” he laughed through his nose, ready to be amused.   
“Good boys get rewards. I’ve been good for you, haven’t I, Thomas.” Alex bit his lip, making the man on top of him tense up a bit. It was working. 

“I don’t consider anyone who needs to be belted into submission ‘good’.” Thomas sneered.   
“Come on, Jeffs, please.” Alex fluttered his eyelids sweetly.   
“Don’t call me that.” Thomas grunted emotionlessly. 

“Please.” Alex spoke again, wiggling his hips in the slowest, smallest circles under Thomas’s. 

There was a moment’s pause. Thomas considering Alexander coldly, looking down into his hot, flickering eyes. He squinted, slowly beginning to nod. 

“Alright, have it your way today.” He drawled carefully, steely eyes glinting. “I’ll tell you what, Alexander. Today, and ONLY today…” he opened his arms up, gesturing widely, “You can have whatever you like. Your wish is my command.” 

He saw Alex begin to smile.  
“For. One. Day.” he emphasized. Alexander knew this would never, ever happen again. Now was the time to take advantage of it. He knew exactly what he was going to request. 

Thomas watched Alexander’s face darken maliciously, ideas already whirling in his head. Mayhem was written in his eyes when he licked his lips, clearly having made his decision.

A smirk pulled the corner of his lip.  
“I want the tables turned.” he growled quietly, “Just for tonight.” 

There was a hesitation. 

“What do you mean?” Thomas inquired, eyebrow cocked. He had a gut feeling that he already knew.  
“You know what I mean. I’m in charge. I’m dom. I get to be…” his eyes burned into Thomas’s

“top.” 

In that moment Thomas knew exactly what Alexander was doing, and it was sick. Alex didn’t WANT to be dom, he loved being forced to scream and cry, forced into submission. But this wasn’t about Alex, no.  
Thomas nodded in slow understanding. 

He was doing this just to get control of Thomas, to show Thomas some fire, a taste of his own medicine. It wasn’t about Alexander’s pleasure tonight, it was about proving a point, punishing his dom in the rare, rare instance that he was allowed. 

But he’d already said yes.   
Alright, Alexander. He’d tolerate it for one night. 

Thomas smiled, “One night, Alexander.” He warned, slowly rising from Alex’s pelvis, eyes still locked. The little one was thrilled.

“What did you call me?” Alex raised an eyebrow, already enjoying this scarce rarity, mocking with his gaze. 

“Daddy.” Thomas growled lowly. He’d let the immigrant have his fun while he was allowed. HE was in charge of whether Alexander was allowed to do this or not. No matter what, Thomas’s control was wrapped around the little man like an iron fist. 

“Good boy.” Alexander smiled. He’d play along, take the stupid letter off of Alex’s mind, and after it all inform the man that he’d set a date with Madison for the three of them to write the Compromise. Everything would go as planned in Thomas’s mind. 

He’d let him have his fun.  
One night.


	29. Turned Tables

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas has a difficult time controlling himself letting Alexander be dom for a night. He is sure to re-establish his dominance once they're finished, of course. And while the two of them are in bed, the Compromise to be written in two days, a month of summer left... Thomas makes a decision he never would have made a week ago. A decision that we've all been waiting for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter soon now that it's the holidays! (P.S happy holidays to all of you lovely, lovely readers. Your support has truly meant. The. World. To me and I love you all so much, may the season be filled with joy for you all! 💕)

“Take off your clothes.” Alex raised his chin in the air with the exact angle Thomas usually did.   
“Slower.” he barked, watching leisurely from the coach, smiling uncontrollably from behind his knuckles. This was too good already.

The tall Virginian’s jaw muscle silently flexed and grinded as he slowly pulled down his clothing, seething. One minute in and he already needed to use every bit of self restraint in his body not to click right back into dom. 

“Good boy.” Alexander’s eyes glittered mischievously. “Go get your collar. You have thirty seconds, back here on the couch, legs spread.”   
Their eyes locked. A deep rumbling was emitting from Thomas’s chest, primitive and aggressive. 

Alexander raised his eyebrows, “Is there something you’d like to say, Jeffs?” He inquired challengingly. Thomas only exhaled through clenched teeth and forced himself to abide by Alexander’s rules, getting to the library and back with the leather and metal collar in hand. 

“Put it on.” Alexander sat up on the couch now, leaning back, legs spread, knuckles to his mouth lazily.   
Alex’s eyebrows twitched as Thomas complied, strapping the cold leather around his throat, always sparring against Alexander’s fiery glower with his of ice. Thomas settled it nicely, the glinting “JEFFERSON” plaque right at the most vulnerable part of the throat.

“What did I say about how I wanted you?” Alex sneered, smiling as he crossed to the chair and sat down obnoxiously.

Thomas shot him the most loathing glance as they passed each other, Thomas taking the couch and parting his knees. He fumed at Alexander, awaiting more command. The little man was already hard as fuck; Thomas looked irrisistable. The dark collar matching his dark hair and eyes. He looked dangerous and frustrated. Perfect.

“Play with yourself, Jefferson.” Alexander spat, “And look in my eyes.”   
Thomas shook his head slowly, screwing up his lips, “You really are enjoying yourself, aren’t you.” he spoke bitterly, taking his pretty cock in hand and stroking it slowly.   
“Faster, bitch.” 

Thomas moved to stand up right then and there to lunge across the space and strangle Alexander, but it took everything in him to hold back. The immigrant gazed at him tauntingly, lips parted and eyebrows raised.  
“Careful, Thomas.” he breathed, “I wear a belt too.” 

Thomas stroked faster as Alexander requested, propelled more by anger than anything else.   
“The pure amount of self-restraint, Alexander….” He snarled, “God, you have no fucking idea. No fucking idea.”

“Language, slut. I don’t want to hear it.” Alex responded, knowing fully well that Thomas would absolutely kick his ass if he behaved this way at any other time. “Two fingers in. Eyes up.” Alex ordered shortly.

Thomas growled and complied reaching under his thigh to insert two fingers. He made a little squeak that Alexander had never heard before, and devoured it up hungrily.   
“That’s a god boy.” He laughed. Alexander was having his fun, he was such a fucking a sub, three-thousand percent. But this was too good.

The little man had never seen Thomas finger himself before and it was absolutely delicious. He bit his bottom lip as he scissored his fingers, loosening himself up. But Alexander wanted to bring him closer. 

“Deeper, Thomas, faster.” he ordered, crossing his arms, “Make yourself cum.”   
“Are you serious?” Thomas sneered, following commands as he pumped faster, harder, finding his prostate expertly and toying the sensitive nerves, he panted a bit now, “All this opportunity and you’re going to waste it?” He scoffed, “Typical.” 

“Don’t remember saying you could talk.” Alex said muffledly from behind his shirt, he was beginning to strip, clumsily as usual, as Thomas brought himself closer, frustrated now, panting faster.   
“Come on, Thomas. Let’s see some effort.” Alex scoffed approaching ever so slowly, trying his best to look tall and intimidating. “I don’t think you’re trying.” 

Thomas looked up at him, eyes simmering with hatred and agonizing self restraint as Alex lowered himself down beside him on the couch. Thomas’s muscles tensed as he continued to stroke, signaling that his orgasm was somewhere in his grasp.

“Not feeling like such an elitist little bitch now, are we?” Alex laughed, observing his fingernails lazily. He looked over at Thomas, smiling “You’re such a conceited asshole, you know that? An aristocratic piece of shit.”   
Thomas channeled his anger into his hand, pumping his dick so hard, jaw muscles raw with clenching.   
Suddenly, he felt that searing tug in his lower belly, his dick twitched in his hand, hips jumping forward only slightly. 

“Ooh, you’re gonna cum.” Alexander observed, turning to Thomas staring straight into his lusty brown eyes.   
“Alright, then. Hands off.” Alex sighed, shrugging boredly.

It took every fiber of living control in his body to do as his little bitch told him, pulling out his fingers and releasing his dick, gripping the edge of the couch instead with his nails. Thomas looked forward, panting, teeth grinding. His breaths were slightly shaking now. Alexander was finally feeding him a taste of his own medicine. 

“How do you feel?” Alex laughed amusedly, stroking Thomas upper arm.   
“Shut up.” Thomas spat, swatting the hand away on dominant instinct. Alexander was pushing his last nerve-

And then it happened. 

His head snapped to the side with a “thwack”, pain tingling up the side of his face.

Alexander had slapped him.

No. Way.

Lips parted, he gradually raised his fingertips to his cheek. He ever so slowly turned his head back to Alexander meeting his eyes.   
“How… dare… you.” He whispered, seething in utter outrage. 

Alexander was positively beaming. “GOD, you don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that...” he spoke, shaking his head, relishing in the words. “On your belly. No attitude.”   
Thomas didn’t move at first. There was no way he could comprehend the utter insult, the blatant disrespect of HIS own slut.

“Did I fucking stutter?”   
Teeth clenched so hard they could shatter, Thomas shifted onto his stomach away from Alex, growling short clips of words.   
“What’s that?” Alex inquired curiously, giving his own dick a couple of strokes and wetting it. 

“I’m willing myself not to fucking kill you with my bare hands.” Thomas snarled, deep voice grumbling. Alexander only laughed, “Speaking of hands, I’m gonna want to see those over the arm of the couch, please.” He positioned himself behind Thomas’s smooth, muscular ass, cupping it in his hands. “You won’t be needing them.” 

“You’re despicable.” Thomas spat, gripping the arm of the couch. Alex laughed through his nose, ignoring him.

“You have a pretty ass, Thomas.” he breathed, still mapping the curves with his fingers, “Very pretty.” he ghosted one finger over the crack which made Thomas jump a bit and shiver.   
Alex parted his lips in surprise, “Sensitive? I didn’t know that…” He smiled wickedly, walking his hands forward, crawling up so that he was over Thomas. He slowly lowered his lips to Thomas’s back, kissing his hot skin over his spine. 

Thomas was growing rather impatient. 

The little man, on the other hand, was taking his sweet time, reveling in this. He glided his tongue across the edge of Thomas’s shoulder blades torturously slowly, leaving a sharp bite on the left one. 

“Hmph.” Alex laughed, laying down delicately on Thomas’s hot back, both of them sweaty by now, “You want my cock?” Alexander whispered right into Thomas’s ear, hot breath rustling the hair.   
The only response was a deep, low warning-growl from Thomas’s chest. 

“Good. Holding your tongue. Who’s a good boy?” Alex purred mockingly. He placed his elbows firmly on either side of his tall partner, shuffling his hips so he was in position. Just barely touching his entrance. Thomas ever so subtly tried to shift his hips into the touch. 

“Ah, ah, ah.” Alex pulled away half an inch, waving a finger. “If you want it you need to ask nicely.”   
“Alexander Hamilton you are dead.” 

“What’s the magic word?”   
“So fucking dead. You’re dead.” 

“Thomas.” Alexander sang sweetly, cocking his head, “That doesn’t sound like a ‘please, Mr. Hamilton’ to me.” 

Thomas squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. Seconds passed as he raged silently, Alexander’s fingertips stroking the back of his neck around his collar. One night and you’re back in charge, he reminded himself. And he’d never have to bow to this bastard again. 

“Please.” He spoke emotionlessly.   
“I think a little whimper would do.” Alex scratched his neck under the collar gently. “A little crying. Show me how generous I am.” 

“Please, daddy.” Thomas said again, whimpering helplessly this time. He was genuinely beginning to feel the urgency in his cock, he needed to have some sort of release.   
“That’s better.” Alex cooed, satisfied, and placing the tip of his cock back up to Thomas.

He pushed the tip in, just enough to open Thomas up, make him feel the stretch, but not fill him up at all. Thomas’s panting continued, sides expanding with every breath.   
“What do we say?” Alex whispered dirtily, licking Thomas’s ear erotically. Twice.

“Please. Fuck.” Thomas grunted, head down against the couch, Alex feeling the deep vibrations of his voice against his front.   
“God, Thomas. I wish you could see yourself right now. I’m never letting you forget this.” 

Thomas knew the insufferable prick was absolutely speaking the truth as he pushed in his inches one at a time so, so slowly. Thomas bit the corner of a pillow hard. Alexander’s pulsating cock filled him up so good; it was warm and rock-hard, leaking pre-cum into him. When his head stopped spinning a bit, he realized why Alexander was going so slow. 

“So tight…. Holy fucking mother of God.” Alexander panted, squirming a bit; his eyes were wide open. There was a moment’s hesitation before Thomas laughed out loud. 

“You’ve never done this with a guy before?” he wheezed, gently slapping the couch arm.  
“I- stop moving.” Alex commanded desperately, more of a beg really. 

“If I’d done this with other guys you’d hunt them down one-by-one, dickhead.” Alex complained. Thomas was still laughing gently, rocking.   
“Okay, fair point, Alexander.” he reasoned. “If you don’t fuck me right now, we’re going to have a conversation later about your behavior.” 

“Hey, buddy. I’m in charge.” Alex pouted, standing up from his elbows to his palms now, shaking a bit.   
He exhaled slowly, swallowing as he pulled out his wet dick almost all the way and pushed back in. 

“Really, Alexander? That’s all you got? I feel like I’m being fucked by your grandfather.”   
“Okay, A: don’t put that image in my head when I’m trying to cum, and B:” he didn’t continue with words, but with action. He slammed back into Thomas, jolting both of them forwards. 

“Ahnn!” Thomas moaned, the first time Alexander had heard him genuinely moan involuntarily. It was deep, throaty, and animal-like. Alexander definitely liked it. 

“Ooh, what’s that? You moan like a little girl.” Alexander lied, thrusting in and out in the same manner, beginning a rhythm.   
Thomas arched his back, trying to coax Alex towards his sensitive area. The immigrant laughed, having the absolute time of his life as he seized the collar roughly, pulling on it with pressure as he rawly fucked Thomas Jefferson. 

Thomas choked a bit, coughing gutturally. The sounds was irresistible to Alexander.  
“Jesus, Thomas. You’re not gonna last two minutes before you cum.” he laughed incredulously, planting his knees firmer so he could fuck Thomas even harder than he already was, pounding as quickly as his little body would allow. 

“You wish.” Thomas spat, head down.   
“Ya said it yourself, my wish is your command tonight.”   
Thomas grunted with each thrust as they continued, he moaned every once in a while and Alex ate it up; he was always the one as loud as a she-cat in heat. 

It was completely crazy for him to think that he was fucking his dom. He was fucking his dom! Quite honesly he had no fucking clue why Thomas had allowed this. Of course, he was only trying to prove a point; Thomas was still the more ruthless of the two, bigger, stronger, more dominant and authoritative. But Alexander was relishing every moment that he was in charge.

After a minute of panting, moaning, and grunting, Alexander realized that Thomas had turned his head a bit, looking out the window and was getting closer and closer to an orgasm. He looked there too to see what he was looking at but realized what it was all at once. 

It had grown dark out, and the window only reflected what was inside. They could only see themselves. 

Thomas was watching himself getting fucked. 

Alexander gaped in faux-disgusted shock, “Thomas, you sick bastard.” he turned back to his dom, “You get off from watching?” Thomas only answered with a low moan, this one sounding more helpless than the others, needy. 

“You’re disgusting. You like watching me fuck your tight ass?” Alex smiled, pounding faster, “Do you?”

“Yeah.” Thomas groaned. Alexander would love to get him to cry, but he definitely wouldn’t. The only one there who always cried during sex was Alexander; he can’t handle pleasure, he has to resort to crying, whimpering, and squirming. 

Thomas lurched forward once. Then twice, then again, now grinding back into Alexander with each thrust. This was a sign that he was getting closer, unable to take it just from Alex anymore. Alexander yanked sharply back on his collar, making him choke strangledly. 

“What’re you rocking for, huh?” He spat, “Huh?” The man was so disgracefully obnoxious. Thomas made a mental note to give him a good spanking as soon as possible.   
“Gonna cum.” He grumbled shortly, trying to grind into the couch again. 

“Speak up, slut.”   
“Gonna cum.” Thomas voiced even louder, voice filling the house. 

“EXCUSE me?” Alex scoffed digging his nails into the scruff of Thomas’s neck, “I don’t think you’re going to do anything without asking permission.” 

“Bite me, fucker.” Thomas snarled lowly enough so that Alexander could scarcely make out his words.   
Alex sneered, “Ask me, Thomas. Ask me now or I’m pulling out this instant.” Thomas was trapped as he rolled his hips against the couch, desperate for release. 

“Let me cum.” He requested, panting as Alex kept tucking his hips in to slam against Thomas.   
“Well that wasn’t very friendly.” Alex pouted whinily, slowing down just enough to make Thomas need to scream. 

“Please, let me cum.” He moaned, letting his forehead fall against the couch. “Daddy…” he whimpered, not because he needed to, no. Because it would absolutely give him permission. 

“Therrrre you go.” Alexander positively purred, indulging himself so much, “Cum for me, Thomas.” Reaching one hand under him, it only took two strokes before the tall man clenched up, shoulder and back muscles rippling as a large shudder crashed through him, cum splattering on his belly and the couch beneath him. 

He was completely silent as he only shivered once more, allowing his orgasm to pleasure him.   
After a bit, he sighed, beginning to sit up as Alexander pulled out with a little whimper himself and backed up. 

“You orgasm so silently…” Alexander breathed, leaning back on the couch, “It’s disgustingly hot.”   
“Mm. You orgasm like you’re being murdered.” Thomas panted, dragging himself up into a sitting position, cum plastered messily to his belly. He ran a hand through his sweaty, dark hair.

“Oh, shut up.” Alexander whined, knowing Thomas was right.  
“It’s entertaining to torture it out of you. You scream, you cry, you thrash around uncontrollably, your eyes roll into the back of your head.” Thomas breathed, catching his breath gradually, “It’s amusing to watch.”

“You’re a sick human being.”   
“Hmm.” Thomas hummed contentedly, letting himself rest for a moment before leaning forward stiffly to get up. Probably wash his own cum off himself. Alexander cocked his head.

“Where the fuck are you going?” Thomas stopped, swiveling his head towards his little sub, dark brows furrowing in annoyedly.   
“Does it LOOK like I cummed or are you just stupid?” 

Another wave of fury burned through the proud Virginian. Thomas’s fists balled, white knuckled, nails digging into his palms as he maintained his self-restraint not to hit Alexander. God, he wanted to slap that smug face into next week.

“Honestly, Alexander, I have no idea how you didn’t cum in the first twenty seconds.” he growled harshly.   
“I have my ways. But I know what I want now. I’m not done with you.” Alexander tilted his chin up, eyes glinting mischievously in the light, “Clean yourself up, Thomas.” 

He leaned to get up once more, “Where the hell did you think I was going.” The Virginian sneered, shaking his head. “Jesus, Alexander…”   
“With your mouth.” Alex finished darkly. 

There was a deafening pause as Thomas froze.   
He slowly turned his head to look at his little nuisance, lips screwing up in rage, fire crackling in his vicious scowl. 

“I… NEVER… swallow….” He enunciated each word with complete emphasis, leaning in closer to Alexander to intimidate. Thomas was far too classy, too refined to do such a barbaric thing. His partner only smiled sheepishly in his face, clucking his tongue. 

“Well, today’s your special day, then.” Alexander’s lip curled back a bit, evilly. He breathed on Thomas’s lips. “Start licking.” 

They stood each other off for several long, excruciatingly drawn out moments. It was then that Thomas realized that in this rare instance, it was Alexander that had the ability to be the ringleader. Another fuming breath in and out of the Virginian.

Leaning back on the couch, not looking at Alexander, he opened up his lap as a vacant place. Alexander was confused at first, but then he understood, face lighting up. Even better. The little one crawled onto Thomas’s warm lap, their damp thighs and cocks pressed together as Alex wiggled down, settling in. 

The Treasurer locked his brown eyes with Thomas’s as menacingly as he could manage.   
“Open. Now.” he commanded.   
Thomas’s glare was full of loathing as he despisingly parted his jaws, tongue curling out appealingly for Alexander. His lips were red and wet, ready for this act of degrading. 

Alexander smirked, running his fingers tinglingly up Thomas’s thigh and over his hip bone, grazing the sensitive area. Thomas didn’t squirm at all, impossible to budge, as their eyes never left each other.   
“Being difficult, are you?” Alex growled, genuinely frustrated at how he couldn’t make Thomas squirm. Thomas looked at him cooly, twitching his eyebrows challengingly, not speaking as his mouth was still open wide. 

“Fine.” Alex complained darkly, sliding two fingers across Thomas’s belly scooping only a bit of cum onto them. The white, sticky substance was still warm. Thomas would hate it, Alexander thought joyously.   
“Take it.” he sneered, raising his fingers to Thomas’s face. The Virginian only looked at it for a second before licking it off of Alexander’s waiting fingers, smoldering eyes expressionless as he did so. 

Alexander was genuinely holding back from cumming on Thomas without any contact. It was a serious concern. Just watching Thomas lick up his own cum was agonizingly erotic, the sight of it coating his wet tongue. 

“More.” Alexander snapped short-temperedly, taking the entire rest of his release from his belly, a great amount, and scooping it into Thomas’s gaping, waiting mouth. The man was good. It was so incredibly infuriating, he should be hating this, and yet his face showed no emotion but mockery as he took his cum into his mouth, swallowing without too much difficulty, even if it took a couple of tries.

“Brat.” Alexander snarled lividly at Thomas, climbing off his lap. 

“What, Alexander.” Thomas sneered in disgust, “Wanted me to cry like you do?” He considered that for a moment and laughed through his nose, amused at the thought, “In your wildest wet dreams, baby boy.” Thomas mocked filthily.

“You know what, that’s it.” Alexander leaned back on the couch and spread his knees wide. “Yeah, that’s it. Come ‘ere.” he snapped and pointed down to the floor in the same movement. 

Thomas didn’t move, glancing at him, then the floor, then back. 

“What?” He drawled boredly.   
“Shut the fuck up and get over here.” Alexander commanded brattily. His head was getting far too big for Thomas’s liking, but there was only so much he could do about it at the moment as he slid down from the couch, rolling his eyes as he settled on the floor between Alexander’s knees, looking up boredly. 

“What?” he stated dryly.   
“Suck.” Alex barked. Thomas only stared at him, a slight smile playing on his face as he raised a single eyebrow. Alex wasn’t having it. 

“Are you fucking deaf, Jefferson. Suck.” He commanded even more harshly. “Why are you looking at me like that?” he spat, growing more frustrated with every second Thomas looked on contently.   
“Oh nothing.” He laughed lightly, leaning in a bit closer, “I just find it funny how no matter what you do, you’re still dancing at the end of my fingertips.”   
“Suck… NOW!” Alexander roared, knowing that Thomas was completely right and that he was PROVING Thomas right with every passing second. 

His dom laughed through his nose again, shaking his head amusedly as he positioned his mouth above Alexander’s cock. He cast one last glance up to his desperate sub, smirking.   
“Thomas…” Alexander warned darkly between gritted teeth. 

Thomas smiled and began… 

And he came down on Alexander, mouth wide open, deep throating him right down to the balls. 

“OH! SHIT!” Alex screamed, bucking up as Thomas’s head bobbed up, cheeks hollowed, searing tongue stroking the bottom of his dick.  
“Thomas, what the- FUCK! AUGH!” he screamed again as Thomas deep throated him once more, pulling Alex’s length far into the reaches of his mouth. It was so harsh and vicious… he didn’t even choke! 

“Oh! Jesus fucking CHRIST! OH!” Alexander moaned and wailed as Thomas immediately began bobbing at the most violent pace, sucking down to the balls, nose touching Alex’s belly, then shooting back up to the tip faster than Alex thought imaginable. Alex’s hips squirmed, his feet danced. 

Then Alexander was shooting cum everywhere, it spurted into Thomas’s mouth and his face. A bit fell onto his own belly as his dick sprang back out of Thomas’s lips. 

“OH! OH! OH!” He panted, chest heaving as he cummed, orgasm tearing through him.   
“ShhhIT!” screamed through gritted teeth, throwing his head back involuntarily and arching his back away from the couch, he shuddered and shivered, gasping. 

He hardly had any time to let his unexpected orgasm rip him to shreds. Thomas was already on the job. 

The taller one spat the cum out of his mouth violently onto Alex’s belly with a sneer; Alexander had cummed. He was in charge now. He could treat the little one exactly how he deserved to be treated.  
Wiping his mouth roughly, he surged up from the floor, leaping up onto the couch, with a primitive snarl.

He thudded onto Alexander, skin on skin as he expertly pinned him down with his knees as they collided roughly. Alexander was still shivering with his orgasm, eyes struggling to focus on anything.   
“Despicable… worthless… disrespectful.” Thomas barked, slapping Alexander’s face brutally with every word.   
Pulling away from his red cheek, Thomas’s hand lashed out to grip Alexander’s delicate throat, making him hiccup abruptly.

“You…” Thomas positively fumed, unable to make out a single sentence with how outraged he was, his mind skimming over everything Alex had done to disrespect him. Sure, he had had permission, but Thomas wasn’t one for fairness. 

“I ought to tie you down and flog you, Alexander.” Thomas slowly constricted his grip, feeling Alex strain to breathe under his hand. The power felt so much more comfortable, natural. “You think you can treat me like that?” He laughed. Alex was beginning to bare his teeth, breath cut off as he gasped strainedly. 

“Bitch...” Thomas whispered, squeezing harder than ever for two seconds, seeing the critical urgency in Alex’s eyes before letting go. Alexander gasped in, choking as his lungs filled with air. He coughed. 

“You… are… perfect…” He panted, coughing, smiling as his head fell back in exhaustion. He hiccuped.   
Thomas grabbed the front of his hair, yanking his head back up to look in his eyes. Alex’s milky-brown gaze was tipsily cock-drunk, lips parted. There were nail marks on his neck. 

“That, I am, Alexander. That, I am.” he sniffed, nose in the air. “Finally learning to praise your daddy.” Thomas nodded curtly at the satisfactory statement. 

“Yeahhh…” Alex sang, tongue heavy, eyelids half-closed. “Need your mouth…” he mumbled breathlessly, sweaty hair clinging to his pink cheeks. 

Thomas laughed through his nose, contented that Alexander was re-assuming his place in their hierarchy and smiled. He’d spank Alexander later. He couldn’t get away with this for too long. “You want my mouth?” He repeated sweetly.

“Daddy…” Alexander whined gently, searching blindly with his lips for Thomas. He laughed, deciding to grant Alex’s wish; he was being good and backing down. Thomas carefully tilted Alex’s head up for a deep, long kiss and stayed that way. The little one moaned a sigh, content as their lips opened and closed lazily, tongues lapping slowly inside each other. 

All that could be heard were Alex’s low moans and wet licks as they slowly slid down on the couch, laying horizontally as they kissed. Thomas’s heavy weight pressed down comfortably on Alex, making him feel safe as his own hands rested softly on Thomas’s biceps, rocking gently back and forth as Thomas nudged into his mouth. 

The two stayed like this for longer than either would admit, until their lips were red and swollen. Thomas slowed down opening his mouth wide, then closing it on Alexander’s at a crawling pace, conclusively pulling away from Alex’s lips with a hot breath. Thomas finally opened his eyes, looking down gently at Alexander.

The small man was breathing softly, he was falling asleep, Thomas realized. 

Alex reached up feebly to rub his eyes, still closed. Something deep in Thomas’s chest shifted a bit.

“Alexander. How much sleep did you get last night?” Thomas furrowed his brows, standing up on his palms to hover above Alex.   
“Enough.”   
“Enough?”  
“Enough.” Alex tried to nod, but ended up nodding off. He was so sleepy… 

“Alright. Let’s go.” Thomas grunted, curling his hands under Alex and pulling him into his lap first so he could plant his feet on the floor.   
“Nooo…” Alexander groaned sleepily, Thomas unsure of what he was even groaning at at this point. He hoisted him up into his arms, standing stiffly so he could walk him over to the bedroom and begin to bathe him; they were both a mess of sweat and cum. 

Alex buried his face into Thomas’s neck, burrowing as he was rocked with the Virginian’s steps. 

Thomas’s thoughts were lingering at the edges of his mind as he gently settled Alexander into the warm water, gliding the soap rhythmically across his tired back as he climbed in himself. He cleaned Alexander first, though. 

What was he thinking? He could hardly even say. There was just… something in his chest. It was heavy, but not in a dragging way. Was there a name for something heavy that still lifts you up? 

He shook his head slowly at his stupid thoughts as he cupped water into his hands and trickled it over Alex’s face. His eyelids fluttered closed, little water droplets slipping off his long lashes. Thomas stared down at his resting face as he ran his fingers over his forehead and jawline, brushing his cheekbones delicately. So gently ghosting over his fading black eye.  
And he felt something.   
He felt something. 

He thumbed the little man’s lips before tenderly pulling him out of the bath, water streaming off the both of them as Thomas dried him on the edge of the tub and fit him into a long robe that pooled at his feet. 

He blinked open his heavy, half-closed eyes.   
“Genuine question.” he spoke for the first time in a bit. For some reason Thomas’s heart leaped into his throat 

“What.” he said dryly, pulling on his own fur robe, no emotion showing. Alexander stood from the lip of the bath.  
“Where’d you learn to give blowjobs like that?” 

Thomas snorted out loud, grabbing his brush from a cabinet and running it through his wet hair. “France.” he spoke in amusement, yanking Alex around in front of him and holding the wiggling man in place to brush his hair too. 

“France.” he laughed, “Ow, Thomas you’re yanking.”   
“No I’m not.”  
“Yes. You are. OW! Now you’re doing it on purpose!” 

Thomas only answered with a smirk in the mirror. “French whore…” Alexander mumbled under his breath, earning him a crisp slap in the butt with the brush.  
A few seconds later Thomas put the brush away, walking out the bathroom door. 

“Ay wait up dickhead.” Alex called sleepily, staggering over to him.

And interlaced his fingers with Thomas’s.   
There was a beat of silence. 

He didn’t make a sarcastic joke about it. He wasn’t pulling some stupid prank. He just did it. Thomas’s heart skipped a beat and he tried not to gasp. In any other world… In any other world he’d pull away with a, “What do you think you’re doing, Alexander?” Three days ago he would’ve done that. 

Then why did he weave his fingers between Alex’s callused ones, squeezing gently as they slowly strolled to the bed? 

Alex clambered in, taking Thomas’s spot as per usual, and Thomas hauled him out of the way, climbing under the covers and tossing them around, trying to get enough. 

“Hogging, Alexander. We talked about the hogging.”   
“I’m cold.”   
“You’re under one-hundred pounds. You get less than half.”  
“That’s not fair. I require warmth.”

Thomas rolled his eyes, impossibly far back into his head. Insufferable. Completely insufferable.  
The taller man rolled over, basically on top of Alexander, smothering him. 

“Thomas! Get off, you little shit.”   
“It’s either me or the floor, bitch. I get the covers.”

Alex growled, but cut himself off with bursting laughter as Thomas kissed the most sensitive part of his neck over and over again, cruelly tickling him on his sides too as he thrashed.   
“Okay, okay! STOP!” Alex wheezed, kicking Thomas. “I surrender! I surrender, I…” he trailed off as Thomas let up, falling back into his dead-exhausted state. He still managed one last kick at Thomas. 

“That’s what I thought.” Thomas sneered, gathering Alexander up into his envelopment, spooning him.   
“Asshole.” Alex grumbled quietly. 

“YOU need to go to sleep.” Thomas commanded sternly, “Why the fuck were you up so late?” he interrogated.   
Alex only sniffed, goofy smile still on his face as Thomas looked down on him. “The… Compromise.” He yawned, “Making notes. Plans…” he trailed. 

Right! Thomas remembered what he had needed to tell Alex with a jolt of thrill. 

“Ahh, the Compromise.” Thomas purred, planting a kiss behind Alexander’s ear, making him hum contentedly.   
“Did daddy tell you about his little gift to you, mon jouet?” He gently tugged at the delicate pulse point with his teeth and let go, a tender gesture. 

“No.” Alexander sang sleepily, “What?” Thomas laughed at Alex’s condition. Sighing through his nose as he shifted him a bit closer. 

“Me. You. Madison, the day after tomorrow. Here.” he spoke, “Bring your quill, Alexander. You’re going to need it.” 

At his words, Alexander lit up like a child on Christmas, turning his face over his shoulder a much as he could to positively gleam at Thomas. “Thomas!” was all he could manage in his thrilled state.   
“What do we say?” Thomas prompted, expecting a proper ‘thank you’ from his sub. Alexander only dived in for a deep kiss, leaning in heavily. 

They pulled away with a pop.  
“That’ll suffice.” Thomas sniffed as Alex rolled back to his spooned position, purring. He was so happy. And Thomas felt something. He was definitely feeling something. It was there.  
He’d known this news for a day, but seeing Alexander react to it made his heart soar. In any other day he would push it into the back of his mind, lock it up, deny it, hide it, shove it down.

But there was no way he could do that anymore. His ability to do that was over. It was... over.

This realization crashed down on Thomas like cold, cold water. Like wintry slush, igniting his senses all at once. He looked down on Alexander, breathing so gently against his body, eyes fluttering closed.

He felt something.

“Thomas…?” He mumbled.  
“Yeah.” Thomas responded expectantly. What? What did he want him to say? A little voice in the back of his mind told him that he already knew. 

“Will you braid my hair?” 

And that was when Thomas decided. 

That was the decision. Right there. 

He did not answer in words, only ran his fingers gently through Alexander’s dark hair and began to separate the strands. Legs intertwined, he weaved a french braid into Alex’s hair, the soft, grooming feeling rocking the little one into sleep.

Thomas knew what he was going to do. He knew right then and there. And it terrified him. 

After the Compromise. After it was written and done, he’d tell Alexander. He’d tell him the thing that they both knew. And... he’d ask him a question too. Because Thomas knew that they could be more than this. They had to be.

When the Virginian finished, he twirled a bit of Alex’s hair in his finger before letting it fall against his neck and curling is arm around the little man’s waist, sighing through his nose as Alex nudged closer. 

Leaning in, Thomas planted a kiss on the nape of Alexander’s neck. And again. He slowly worked down all the places he could reach, gently kissing the hollow of his collarbone and over his shoulders. All the while, Thomas grazed the back of his fingernails over Alex’s belly, in lazy, tender circles. 

Alexander was already asleep. 

Thomas gazed at his content face. He was so peaceful, lashes twitching with dreams. He tucked a stray piece of hair behind Alex’s ear for him and wished they could stay in this moment forever.   
A Compromise in the making. Nearly a month of summer left. Alexander… It was perfect. Everything was perfect for once. 

And he was going to ask Alexander to be with him.


	30. Virginian's Secret Pt. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is the same night... but things are not quite as perfect outside of Thomas and Alexander. Trouble is brewing elsewhere...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go as the plot thickens! Happy reading and happy holidays! ☺️

James Madison scanned over the inked-up parchment that he had just filled for any errors. He sniffed, pushing his glasses back up on his nose as he read over his words once again. Ah, there was a point to elaborate on.   
He dipped his quill in his ink bottle with a clink, and leaned in over his desk once again, hovering over the paper and letting its contents envelop him.

The pendulum on the grandfather clock swung and the candles on his desk flickered. A cab driver hollered somewhere out on the street. 

Ten minutes into a new sheet of parchment, there was a soft knock of knuckles on wood; his head peeped up from his work, body still curled over. 

“George.” he smiled lightly, setting down his quill.  
George Washington was leaning his head into the already-open door. He had knocked on the frame to announce his presence. 

“James.” He spoke, his smooth voice as resolute and full as ever, even at this hour. “At the desk so late?” he inquired, straightening up to stand tall in the threshold. 

“Yeah, House matters… bills coming up from Committee…” he mumbled, trying to put away his undried parchment as Washington strolled up towards his desk, not suspecting anything as his eyes fell down on the dark title of the essay.

His brows furrowed and he looked back up at Madison, “The Compromise of 1790?” he read. James’s face began to grow red with embarrassment. “George…”   
Washington picked up the paper with his long, handsome fingers, blue eyes scanning the page. James could see the slight shock in his curious eyes as he read. 

“I’m sorry, George. I really am; I should have told you sooner.” He stammered, unsure of what to do with his body right now, “I just didn’t want to say anything until it was set in stone.” 

George didn’t look at him, just slowly placed the paper back down on the desk like it was very fragile.   
“No harm done.” he spoke genuinely, pushing his coat back to place a hand on his hip, “Just a surprise.” he laughed a bit through his nose, making James force a strained laugh as well. Washington stood still, carefully regarding Madison’s face for a minute. 

“Jefferson and Hamilton, huh.” He exhaled through his nose, nodding, “I don’t know if I was expecting that.” 

Silence followed as Madison nodded gravely. He carefully stood from his chair with a creak, crossing slowly to the window that overlooked the street three stories below. Despite the lateness of the hour, carriages and people still bustled through the streets.   
“Neither was I.” he whispered lowly, thoughts streaming through his head faster than he would like them to, “Neither was I…” he repeated. 

The two were quiet as James placed is hands on the cool windows ledge, looking out over the city. Washington sighed and all that could be heard were his boots lightly clunking around the desk and towards Madison. 

“You can relax, James.” George spoke crisply, placing both large hands on James’s shoulders, massaging deeply and carefully. James frowned and sighed, melting into the touch as he always did.   
“This… Compromise of yours means good things for all of us.” George spoke, looking over Madison out the window too. There were a few moments of silence.

“I just feel like I should have told you about it.” James craned back over his shoulder to see George’s expression but he was calm as usual, gazing out over the city. George looked down to meet his eyes, “You are not required to do anything. Your work is yours, and yours only. I respect what you chose.” he spoke as eloquently as usual. 

James closed his eyes and leaned back into George a bit, the tall, sturdy man supporting him easily as he continued to rub rhythmically. They listened to the sounds of the city for quite some time. 

George finally stirred, breaking the silence, “Jefferson and Hamilton.” he spoke, deep voice rumbling in his chest, pressed against Madison, “How did you pull that off? I could use the advice.” he joked, but Madison did not laugh... He sighed. 

“Jefferson proposed it, actually. I didn’t have to lift a finger.” Washington raised his eyebrows in surprise, frowning in consideration.   
“Now that IS curious…” he spoke, continuing his motion on James’s shoulders offhandedly, thinking. 

“How-” He began, cutting himself off to think of a better way to phrase it, “What do you think is the cause of those two being so willing to compromise?” he inquired, genuinely curious. 

Madison was silent, able to see his weary reflection in the window. Moments passed as he considered himself. And the things that he knew.   
“I haven’t an idea.” he breathed quietly, letting his eyes lose focus on his reflection. He’d lied again.

Washington exhaled deeply, allowing his hands to fall from his shoulders to trail down his back, and slip around the front of his waist. James was not about to give up the enemies’ secret; he couldn’t. 

Washington held him gently around the waist and placed a soft kiss atop his head before resting his chin on top of James’s head peacefully. They stood contently together in the tranquility of the night, watching over New York city. 

James allowed himself to rest gently against Washington, closing his eyes. He could not give up their secret, no. 

Not when he had such a secret too… 

**

“No way!”   
“Yes.”  
“Yes? Oh my God!” Laughter echoed from the treehouse into the night, over the mirror-stil lake that looked like the night sky above. Two young women were hidden up inside the four walls in the branches, one candle between them as they huddled close.

“I can’t believe you did that.” The brunette whispered in a hushed tone. The blonde across from her tried to hold down a smug smile, nodding pridefully.   
“I said, ‘I know what I want’ and marched away from my father and went with that boy to New Hampshire. New Hampshire of all places!” She exclaimed enthusiastically. 

“Why didn’t you marry him?” The brunette scooted in closer on her knees, careful of the candle but enthralled by the story. The blonde smiled and shrugged offhandedly, “In the end, I had to go back. I guess I knew I’d have to all along but at some point it just sinks in.”

The brunette thought for a moment and folded her hands in her lap, looking down at them quietly.

The blonde picked up on something. “What is it?” The she inquired, making the other girl look back up slowly, a bashful and innocent look on her face.   
“Elizabeth?” the blonde spoke, voice rising at the end as she raised an eyebrow playfully, “What is it?” 

Eliza blushed some more, glancing off to the side as she smiled lightly, lips parted trying to hide her face in innocent reticence.  
“I just…” she began, trying to hold back from the vile thing that she was about to say. 

“...I don’t think that’s why you came back.” She spoke slowly, choosing her words deliberately as she raised her eyes up to the blonde. 

She laughed, “What do you think, Elizabeth?” she questioned in kind amusement. Eliza glanced off modestly again, trying not to smile.  
“I think he wasn’t what you said. He wasn’t what you wanted.” she implied carefully. 

The blonde gaped at her, a smile in her eyes as she spoke. “So she speaks her mind!” She gasped for dramatic effect, “I didn’t know you would ever challenge a word I said.” The blonde cocked up her chin haughtily. 

Eliza only laughed, a little glint in her eye as she smiled innocently,  
“But… I am right. Aren’t I.” She stated more than asked. The blonde lifted her chin as there was a pause between them.

“And what if you are?” She questioned hypothetically, gesturing with an open hand.

“Well,” Eliza looked down at her hands with calculative consideration, “I would ask you… What it is you DO want.” She decided, looking back up at the girl she was sitting so close across from. Eliza couldn’t believe what she was saying… Why were these things coming out of her mouth? She'd never felt so brave. Was that the word for it? Things seemed fuzzy.

The girl smiled solemnly, looking up into Elizabeth’s close brown eyes.   
“I would not answer.” She spoke, curly lips decisive, as usual. 

“And why not?” Eliza followed up timidly, for some reason feeling the urge to move in just a bit closer. Just slightly closer. Why…? 

The blonde looked up, the gentle flame flickering in the reflection of her sad eyes. She gravitated towards Eliza ever so slowly, the reason indescribable for her as well. A few moments of tense silence played out, the world was nothing but each other’s eyes.  
A question, an answer. 

“Because... you would already know.” Martha whispered, breath falling on Eliza’s lips, her expression slightly surprised at her own words. And without any hesitation, they were leaning in closer to each other, heads tilted.  
Eliza closed her eyes slowly, lips parting as she didn’t even think of what was happening right now. It was rare that Eliza didn’t think.

All that was left between their lips was one breath of night air…

“Eliza!” 

The call rang and echoed once it hit the lake. It sounded from far below them, beneath the tree. 

The two girls jumped apart, delicate lips never having touched. They looked, mortified, at each other, and then to the side, faces burning with embarrassment. There was an agonizing pause of silence.

“I think that’s Angelica.” Martha laughed solemnly, nodding her head and looking back up at Eliza. When she saw her expression, she furrowed her brows in concern.  
“Eliza…?”   
“I have to go.” Eliza cut her off, making a move for the small hatch and ladder, kicking the candle on the way by, sending it teetering dangerously for Martha to fix.

She gasped jumped to it, settling the candle and then quickly moving for the timid girl, snagging her by the sleeve and pulling her back. 

“Martha…” she tried feebly to tug away, but the more witty girl had her in her grasp; she wasn’t letting go.   
“Hey.” She spoke, gently, kindly at Eliza, “Just look at me.” She quietly slid her grip from Eliza’s sleeve to her hand, coaxing her with blue eyes to turn back towards her for one more moment. 

“Martha… I…”   
“It’s okay.” It was Martha’s turn to look down at her lap, voice shaking a bit, “I don’t… know what just happened either.” She looked back up, finding the other hand and weaving her fingers in between Eliza’s small, dainty ones.  
“But you have to promise me you’re not going to disappear.” Why were these her words...? For some reason, it seemed like the most important thing to be asking. 

Eliza’s face was tilted down; she was in shock, she was scared.   
“Okay?” Martha spoke quietly. This conversation was so much bigger than it was forced to be here. Eliza wanted time, more time to think it through; this was too rushed. It was incomprehensible. All too fast...

So all she did was nod quietly. A weight was lifted off Martha’s shoulders. “Okay.” Martha stated again, straightening herself up and nodding, she was troubled too but the more stubborn girl wouldn’t let it show. 

“Eliza I’m not standing in the cold for ONE more damn minute!” Angelica’s sassy, authoritative voice complained from below once more, muffed in the forest.   
The girls looked at each other somberly for a moment; Eliza opened and closed her mouth indecisively. She had no words. 

“You should go now.” Martha nodded, understanding, “I have a feeling Angelica might find stones to throw up here.” she laughed through her nose. Eliza managed a weak smile, slipping her fingers out from between Martha’s reluctantly. 

A part of her did not want to go. Maybe most of her. Why was this so out of the blue? 

She slowly scooted towards the hatch of the treehouse, the place built for her and her sisters as children. The only place she could feel like the world wasn’t watching. And when she was with Martha Jefferson, the world wasn’t watching. 

She placed her foot on the rung, casting one last glance over her shoulder at the girl. Her wavy blonde hair cascaded down her shoulders, modest scarlet dress pooled around her knees. A part of Eliza didn’t want to go, a lot of her didn’t.

And another part of her asked herself…   
Would Alexander ever betray her like this? 

**

Aaron Burr swept his hand across his desk, sending papers flying everywhere. An ink bottle shattered to the ground chaotically. He panted. In the moments after, there was stillness besides the man’s heaving breaths.   
A connection… he thought. He needed to find a connection. 

He ran his hands through his hair suddenly flashing in anger, kicking the desk leg in a short jerking movement. Why? It was so AGONIZING. There was something right above his grasp, right on the tip of his tongue. He needed to put two and two together. 

Burr walked slowly to sit at his empty desk head down, eyes dark. He twirled a ring on his finger ever so slowly around…   
Wasn’t the affair enough? 

Burr watched the ink on the ground slowly crawl and expand, somehow looking like dark blood.   
Blood in the water, he thought. Blood in the water. 

The affair was enough to destroy Hamilton’s legacy. If he had proof. And he had no proof; this fact had been ingrained in the front of his mind since he found out and tortured him in all his waking hours. 

No. The affair would not suffice. He needed more and he knew that there was more. Burr leaned back in his chair, hands cupped over his mouth as he stared on ahead, rubbing his face.  
Alexander Hamilton had walked over him since the day they met. He’d taken everything he’d ever planned for; Hamilton never thought, he just DID. Hamilton was smart… And so were all the people surrounding him. All the people in the room. 

Burr drew a shaky, livid breath. He... didn't want Hamilton gone. 

He wanted to be in the room. 

He slowly sat up, everything coming together in his mind. 

He didn’t have to destroy Hamilton, no, he didn’t need to!   
Burr placed both hands on the cold desk, slimy smirk playing on his face. Why would he destroy someone… who could be so useful? 

The snake stared down at his hands, breathing quickly, licking his lips hungrily, making another plan.   
He’d find out more, worm his way into discovering this… “arrangement” Hamilton had between himself and Jefferson. Once he had that information and the leverage of the affair…

He would have Jefferson and Hamilton at the tip of his fingers. Dancing at the end of his string.   
Oh, how the tables would turn, Burr chuckled, running his fingers through his hair. He sighed contently, leaning back to cross his legs.

God, how long he had waited for this, he relished. 

He could already taste the sweet tang of victory on the tip of his tongue…


	31. A Waltz to Rainfall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas and Alexander have a romantic night together after a full day of planning. Tomorrow is the big day... the Compromise and Thomas finally telling Alexander how he feels. What will happen? They don't know, but tonight is filled with nothing but Jamilton, and Thomas almost, ALMOST slips up and tells Alexander on the spot...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! I hope you all are having a beautiful, wonderful holiday season! <3

Thomas panted, wiping his mouth as he sat up in the bathtub. He leaned against the edge.  
“That was disgusting.” He drawled, running a hand through his soaking hair.  
“That was awesome.” Alexander sighed a shaky laugh, struggling to sit up himself. 

Thomas looked at Alexander and pointed at him lazily, “You know what. I take that back, YOU’RE disgusting.” He decided contently, nodding in satisfaction. 

“Am not.”  
“Yes, Alexander, you are.” Thomas rolled his eyes stepping out of the bathtub carefully, long legs rippling with muscles as water streamed off. Alexander tossed his hair, flicking water droplets all over the place and onto Thomas. 

“Ay!” He yelped, “You’re cleaning that up. Bitch. Get up.” He barked demandingly, grabbing a towel from a brass hook. He threw it at Alexander, nailing him in the face.  
“Hey!” Alexander scoffed in surprise.  
“Up.” Thomas drawled dryly. Alex rolled his eyes as he stood on shaky legs.  
“Fuck. My ass feels like hell.” 

Thomas snorted, “Shit, Alexander. I wonder who’s fault that is.” he sneered, drying his hair off in front of the mirror, “I’m not the one who begged for sex twice today.” 

“Yeah well I’m not the one who caved.” The two had worked tirelessly for the whole day on the plan, getting it ready to present to Madison tomorrow. Alexander, though, gets horny when he’s made to sit for too long.  
“I didn’t ‘cave’,” Thomas quoted in disgust, “I punished you. You act like a whiny little bitch, I get to treat you like one.” 

“But you do it so hard…” Alexander whimpered, fighting for a place in front of the mirror next to Thomas, “That dick is too big to be gentle. What’ve you got, Jeffs, nine?”  
“Don’t call me that.”  
“Answer the question.” 

“Watch. Your. Tone.” Thomas spat, “And you don’t order me around, boy.”  
“Older than you.”  
“Shut up.” He clipped, smacking Alex’s ass, “We are not discussing my dick size.” He rolled his eyes, walking into his bedroom to pull open his French armoire, looking for clothes. Dry Alexander sat on his bed. 

“I’m still naked, you know.” He pouted. Thomas paused and looked over his shoulder, an exasperated scowl on his face.  
“Thanks for the news update, New York Gazette.” he scoffed, turning back to the dresser. Alexander scowled and shivered. 

“You wanna know something Thomas?” Thomas pulled out breeches and a shirt and began to get dressed, not facing Alexander. 

“I know plenty, Alexander. Is it that you’re staring at my ass again?”  
“That’s beside the point,” Thomas shook his head, laughing through his nose sarcastically, “It’s that I stay here almost EVERY night. I put up with you breaking the ‘three nights a week’ rule.” 

Thomas snorted, “You beg to stay, jackass.” Alexander ignored him; Thomas was right, as per usual. 

“And every time I stay, I have to wear the same old clothes two days in a row and if they get dirty? You just say fuck it.”  
“Like you don’t already wear the same clothes for a week.” Thomas taunted, brows pulled together. He was dressed now and turned to face Alex’s direction.

The little man scowled. “What I’m saying, buddy, is that I need to keep some clothes here for myself. I’m sick of putting on old shit.” 

Thomas paused, heart swooping into his stomach. Alexander was asking to leave his things. Here. In his house.  
For some reason Thomas was caught off guard. Wait, this is what he was going to ask Alexander anyway, wasn’t it? To be with him more. Thomas shifted his weight to the other foot; he was always the one proposing things, he didn’t like Alexander bringing it up. 

“Why can’t you wear my clothes? You steal them no matter what the fuck I say.” he sneered, stepping toward Alexander, who stood up to face the challenge.  
“Yeah, when we’re going to bed, not to work. I hate going all the way back to my place every fucking morning to change my coat. It’s ridiculous.” Alexander snorted, wedging up next to Thomas to pull out some nightclothes from his drawer. He knew exactly where these things were by now. 

“Where’s the scarlet one.”  
“Clothesline. Alexander, you’re seriously asking me for closet space?” 

“Only if you let me, ma chérie.” Alexander batted his eyelashes, mocking Thomas’s southern accent on his French. Thomas stood still, considering him with cold eyes as the little man dressed. Thomas was leaning against the dresser, arms crossed cooly as he regarded Alex, who looked up expectantly. 

“Alright.” Thomas nodded ever-so-slowly, eyes never leaving Alex’s. The little man paused and gaped up at him.

“Really?” He scoffed incredulously, lips parted, “Wow.”  
“What?” Thomas spat, laughing, “I’d better see some gratitude, bitch.” 

“No, it’s just.” Alexander shook his head, smiling at Thomas, “I expected some fighting and yelling. Throwing some fists, maybe a flower pot.”  
“Don’t tempt me.” Thomas laughed through his nose.

Silence fell between them. The two stared at each other. Thomas still leaned with his arms crossed, steely eyes giving away nothing. Alexander regarded him very carefully, eyes slowly squinting. 

“Why is your face doing that, Alexander.” Thomas drawled boredly, sighing.  
Alexander kept squinting, and smiled sweetly, “Oh nothing.” He sang like a bird, turning from Thomas and walking daintily, almost dancing to the bedroom couch by the window. 

Thomas rolled his eyes and stood up straight, used to Alex’s little stunts by now. “What are you so happy about?” he questioned, slightly annoyed. Alexander only settled down into the couch, eyes peacefully closed and a smug little smile on his face. He crossed his legs cheekily. 

“Nothing, darling. Just the fact that I’m growing on you.” He nuzzled himself comfortably into the couch, self-satisfaction written all over his face. Thomas stopped in front of him, crossing his arms once again and raising an eyebrow at his words. 

“Is that so?” he questioned amusedly.  
“Oh, it is.” Alexander raised his arms up behind his head leisurely, looking up at his dom challengingly, getting pretty risky with his cockiness. Thomas still smiled lightly as his signature deep-chested growl rumbled from within him.

“Careful, Alexander.” He spoke calmly, nodding, “Your arrogance does not move me to be forgiving.”  
There was silence as the two stared at each other, standing each other off. For a while there was nothing but brown, unmoving eyes at battle.

Alexander stirred, sighing. He exhaled as he stood, still smiling sweetly as he brushed himself off.  
“Okay, Thomas. Tell yourself what you want.” He smirked, “You like me.” he hummed contently.

His peace only lasted a moment before the familiar white-hot sting spread across his cheek, jerking his head to the side with a sharp snapping sound.  
There was the familiar pause. 

Thomas brushed off his hands slowly as Alex whimpered, rubbing his jaw tenderly.  
“Alexander, that is a light warning.” he said rather kindly, interlacing his fingers in front of him sighing happily.  
“You need to watch your mouth. You know that, mon jouet.” he purred patronizingly, stepping closer to Alexander and brushing the back of his fingernails over his stinging cheek, making him grimace sharply.

“Aww.” Thomas pouted, clucking his tongue as he tucked a piece of hair behind Alex’s ear, tilting his chin up to look at him with his glistening eyes.  
“Did that hurt?” He asked, cruel smirk playing on his face; he always had far too much fun with his little sub. Alexander tried to glower up at his daddy.

“No.” he grumbled. Thomas only laughed through his nose and brought Alex’s face gently to his, placing a light kiss on his lips and holding it there. Alex was difficult at first, but in the end he couldn’t resist Thomas and ceased his childish pouting, melting into Thomas’s embrace. 

Alex’s fingers tangled in Thomas’s dark hair, the taller man lifting up Alexander’s shirt the slightest bit to rest his hands at his bare hips, running his thumbs along the bones and making Alex gasp pricelessly at the chilly feeling. 

After a time of slow, rocking licks, they pulled apart. Alexander smiled, lips still ever-so-lightly brushing each other as their eyes slowly opened. 

Alex whispered, breath mixing with Thomas’s, “You have a thing for hip bones, don’t you?” he squinted knowingly. Thomas only looked down on him and hummed.  
“Hmm, how’d you guess?” he drawled, smirking as well.  
“Just a hunch.” Alex nodded, slipping back down from his tippy-toes as Thomas settled his shirt back down, sighing. 

“Alright, what’s to eat?” Alexander began to stroll past Thomas, lifting up the hem of the dragging pants.  
“I made you dinner an hour ago.”  
“Well, I’m hungry.”  
“Alexander you’ve had two meals, three snacks, and two shots of my cum today. You can’t possibly be hungry.”  
“Watch me.” 

The two bickered all the way to the kitchen and continued as they raided the small building, looking for the perfect thing to eat despite Thomas’s complaining. The Virginian fussed over the organization everything needed to be in when they left, and not ten minutes later the two of them were staggering out, arms weighed down by bread, cheese, and wine.  
(“You are going to drop something expensive, Alexander.”  
“No I’m not. Hey-! I don’t want your hel- hey!” )

The odd pair headed back to the house on the gravel path, voices ringing out in the cloudy evening. And they weren’t even halfway back to the house when the sky opened up without a thunder’s warning, pouring fresh sheets of rain onto the estate. 

“Fuck! The bread, Alexander, cover the bread!” Thomas commanded, shoving his own up under his shirt as he began to run, head down towards the house. Alexander did the same, following close behind as they sprinted. Water sprayed their faces, soaking their hair and clothes, making them cling to their skin. 

Their feet thundered on the path, throwing up wet gravel as they practically dove to the door. Thomas grappled at the handle with wet fingers all while trying to hold the bread under his shirt by hunching over awkwardly.  
“Stupid… piece of… shit…” He growled through gritted teeth, struggling to yank it open. Alexander waited behind him, shifting from one foot to the other. 

“Come ON!” he yelled, and of course, right then, the door swung outwards, allowing Thomas and Alexander to stumble inside, practically on top of each other. Alexander slammed the door behind them.

There was a moment of silence as they stood in the quiet house, no longer able to hear the gushing of rain. It was quiet inside, and now it was chilly too. 

They looked at each other, hair and clothes completely soaked, dripping onto the dining room floor… and they both burst out laughing at the same time.  
“Oh my God.” Alexander laughed, dumping his amount of food on the table. “What are the fucking ODDS!?” he roared.

Thomas wheezed, flicking the water out of his hair, “The sheer bad luck surrounding you is astounding.” He slapped Alex’s wet back as they leaned over laughing for a bit. It took awhile for them to come down. 

“Okay.” Thomas breathed, trying to hold down any leftover giggles. “You sort through this and see what we can eat, I’m getting a fire going.” He shook out an arm, water droplets sprayed, “To dry our things. Strip.” 

Alex peeled off his clothes and handed them to Thomas, who headed off into the house. Alexander began sorting through what had been drenched by the rain and what was still salvageable. At this point, the man was absolutely freezing. Goosebumps raised on his arms and his teeth were chattering when Thomas came back, dressed in nightclothes. The Virginian gave Alexander a quick scan.

“What’s wrong with you?” he sneered. Alex hugged himself, scowling.  
“I’m fucking freezing my ass off.” he whined, “Where’s my clothes?”  
“Manners.”  
“Please.” 

“Good.” Thomas rolled his eyes. “I knew you’d be cold so I- uh- brought you winter nightclothes.” He only stuttered for a moment, but Alexander picked up on everything.  
“Thanks.” Alex lit up, taking the thick pile from Thomas’s hands and beginning to dress.  
“I’m taking the food by the fire.” Thomas took the wine and bread but Alexander hardly paid attention to him, busy on bundling up. It didn’t take long.

“Holy shit…” He gasped when he was finished, turning around slowly a few times. He was wearing the thickest, warmest, most comfortable winter nightclothes the face of the planet had ever seen. “Thomas Jefferson’s got taste.” he mumbled shaking his head and grinning as he set off at a jog through the door to the parlor, eager to show Thomas. 

“Hey, look at…” he trailed off when he realized Thomas wasn’t in there. The clothes were drying in front of the fire, but the Virginian was nowhere to be seen. Head cocked, Alex frowned and walked to the bedroom, peeking his head in first to look around.

“Thomas?” There was no response. 

But... a drifting scent curled under his nose, one unusual for a bedroom. Alexander did a double-take, walking into the room, enticed. It was the most pleasant smell he’d ever had the privilege of scenting. Summer rainfall on wet earth; dry, smoky firewood; and old wine… he took a deep whiff, immediately following the trail.

To the far left of the bedroom couch, there was a door that Alexander had never even noticed before, it was wide open to the dark evening; the closer he got, the more he could hear the rushing white-noise of rain and the crackling, popping of a fire. 

He stuck his head out, mouth open to speak, but he shut it as soon as his eyes fell upon the sight. 

His eyes widened in awe. There was a small, yet beautiful, covered porch, one he’d never been on before, with wide beams all the way up to the rafters giving it an open, log-cabin feeling. There was a raised fire pit in the middle, warm flames were already flickering in its hearth, sparks popping. In front of it, facing out into the night, was a piece of porch furniture that could only be described as a couch-bed. It was packed with deep pillows and the thickest fur blankets Alex had seen. 

Right next to the couch-bed, the table had been pulled up, food spread out on it. Thomas was standing with a lit candle, face full of indecision. 

With an ache in his heart, Alexander realized that Thomas… was debating where to put it. He went back and forth between places, standing back to look at it and then diving to shift it just the smallest amount.  
Alex’s eyebrows swooped in as his chest felt a little wash of warmth. 

“I didn’t know there was a porch out here.” Alex finally spoke, causing Thomas to jump in surprise. He put a hand to his heart, inhaling sharply and then letting it out slow.  
“Christ, Alexander. I feel like you sneak up on me three times a day.” he breathed, picking up the wine bottle and rounding the table towards the bed. He threw his legs in, getting comfortable, and turned his head over his shoulder.

He paused. “You… coming?” Thomas asked condescendingly, Alex snapped out of it.  
“‘Course. There’s food.” He climbed over the back of the sofa-bed and in, sighing contently.

He lifted up the huge fur blanket and pulled it over him. Now that he was in the bed, the warm heat of the fire brushed his face and made him hum; the blanket was also pre-heated from the fire. 

“Oh my God…” he sighed, nuzzling in deeply, completely enveloped all the way up to his nose. It was so impossibly comfortable all bundled up; he could fall asleep right then and there from the exhaustion of the day, all the planning, writing, and aggressive sex. 

Alexander turned his head, sleepily, looking up at Thomas.  
“What’re you looking at?” He smiled, realizing that Thomas had been looking down on him the whole time, a light smile on his lips and something warm in his eyes. 

He laughed, shaking his head slowly “You look adorable.” he spoke, still staring. Alex growled, trying to look mean but it was a lost cause as the larger man extended his strong arms, seizing him under the armpits to haul him closer. 

Thomas manipulated him so that his arm was possessively around Alexander, the little one’s head resting on his chest.  
“I don’t like you.” Alex murmured, nuzzling as close as possible into Thomas’s embrace, hooking a leg over Thomas’s to get as much contact as he could. 

“I don’t like you either.” Thomas laughed, nudging into Alex’s neck so that he could gently lick at the sensitive, fragile skin, coaxing Alexander to open up for him. 

The little man didn’t even try to stifle the shameful moan that escaped his lips, tilting his head gradually to expose his neck to his dom.  
“Mmm… Good boy.” Thomas mumbled, hot breath buffeting his delicate area, “Daddy gets you moaning without doing anything, huh?” he mocked, licking the spot again as Alexander whined once more. 

Thomas smirked against his skin, flicking his hot tongue around and sucking the wet place in. He bit and sucked slowly, deeply, creating a hickey that was sure to last, and creating it agonizingly more sluggish than he needed to. Just to hear Alexander try to hold back his little choking noises. 

Thomas pulled away with a wet sound, opening his eyes to observe his work. A dark bruise was already emerging as Alexander flopped his head to look at Thomas, panting.  
“More…” he whimpered, lip quivering. Thomas didn’t even have to TRY to get Alexander like this, all needy and squirmy. He could’ve sworn Alex was ready to cry. 

“You horny again, baby?” Thomas spoke gently, pulling Alexander closer to his embrace.  
Alex looked up at him, watery eyes wide and hopeful, “Yeah.” he breathed quietly. His dom only laughed gently through his nose, reaching to the side table and exhaling, now holding some bread. 

“Hungry?” Thomas offered.  
“Always.” Alexander responded, reaching to take it but Thomas pulled it away just far enough so he couldn’t. One look in the Virginian’s smug eyes and Alexander knew what to do. He just opened his mouth and stood still as Thomas placed it on his tongue, nodding in satisfaction. DAMN he was a sucker for control. 

“There you go, now.” he spoke approvingly. Of course it was delicious, but not as delicious as the next course.  
Thomas held his chin while he swallowed, tracing the outline of his lips gently, like he was a piece of art, and when he was finished, slipping it in past his lips. Alexander accepted it willingly, sucking gently and flicking his hot tongue over it, drawing it in as much as possible. God, Alex couldn’t get enough, and Thomas couldn’t keep his hands off the man.

Alexander’s eyes fluttered closed as he licked at Thomas’s finger, the taller man stroking the flat of his tongue and the insides of his cheeks lightly. After only a minute, Thomas pulled away and watched with rapture as Alex tried to get it back, eyes slowly opening and focusing on his dom. 

“Fuck you, Jefferson.” he whispered, curling himself further into Thomas’s warmth. Thomas chuckled,  
“You’d like to, Alexander. You’d like to.” he taunted cruelly, planting a kiss on Alex’s temple. The little man only whimpered the most pitiful sound he’d ever heard. 

“Please. Have you not noticed how fucking good I’m being?” he squirmed to look up at Thomas, “I haven’t back-talked or touched myself without permission.” Thomas only looked down passively.  
“You’re making yourself hornier saying those naughty things, Alexander.” he spoke matter-of-factly, observantly. God, his voice, his cold, calm tone. Alexander wiggled a little more desperately this time, feeling the warm splash of heat now curling at the bottom of his belly. 

“Oh…” he breathed at the feeling, swallowing. 

Thomas read the situation like a book and carefully reached under the covers, slipping under the waistband and placing a palm over Alex’s lower belly. He pressed ever so lightly, awaking the nerves there uncomfortably, not too much but not enough. 

The little man squeezed his eyes shut, head flopping back into the pillow as he choked down the first sob. Fuck, he cried at pleasure every time and Thomas fucking loves it. Alexander was so desperate; he tried to hold back but abandoned the effort as he grinded up towards Thomas’s hand. 

The fucking bastard lifted it exactly with his pace, palm still resting gently on his hot area, curling up perfectly to not give Alex any friction. Bastard. Fucking bastard. Alexander breathed short little breathless gasps, eyes still squeezed closed as he twitched, first tear leaking down his cheek. 

“Thomas…” he whined between choked-off whimpers, “Stop it…”  
“Stop what?” Thomas rumbled calmly, moving his face closer to Alexaners. He pressed and rubbed his palm in deep slow circles on Alex’s lower belly, watching his face closely for his reaction. Eyes still closed, he only clenched his teeth, lip quivering helplessly. 

“Stop teasing me.” he whimpered, tear rolling down from the other eye, Thomas wiped it away with a warm thumb, spreading the wetness across his cheekbone. 

“Oh, mon jouet.” he rumbled deeply, “You need to remember who you’re talking to.” his hand trailed down to rest at Alex’s warm throat and settled there gently, but still threateningly. Alex only grasped blindly for Thomas’s forearm holding to it lightly as well, like an anchor. Thomas smiled. 

“You are being such a good boy for me, Alexander…” he purred, brushing his throat like a prized possession, “Such a good boy…”  
Alex laid still and fucking-fuck just TAKES it. He was on the edge. On the very, very verge of rolling to grind on Thomas like a bitch in heat, demanding it. He needed it and he wanted to TAKE it. He only held his tongue agonizingly. 

Thomas hummed as he pulled his hand away, “You don’t get to cum whenever you want to. You cum when daddy says so.” he stated sweetly.  
“You’re not allowed to cum a third time today.” he spoke evenly, like he was reading an address. Alex’s head fell back once more in devastation, one last sob wracking his ribcage. 

“NOOooo…” He groaned pitifully, grinding his hips up into nothing and then going limp on the bed, breathless. Thomas watched unmovingly; it was hard for him not to get turned on at the sight of Alexander so helplessly horny with absolutely nothing he could do about it. 

“Tomorrow, mon jouet.” he whispered kindly, placing another quick kiss on Alex’s temple as he reeled him in, kissing his jaw quickly as well.  
“Don’t touch me, Thomas. I don’t like you right now.” 

Thomas laughed through his nose, “Your rock-hard cock says otherwise.” he retorted playfully. Handing a roll of bread to Alexander while taking one for himself, also working at the cork of the wine bottle. 

Alexander flopped exhaustedly, frustrated, on the bed, taking the roll from Thomas in an “I’m going to enjoy this but hate you the whole time” way, biting into it. The cork came off soon enough, and Thomas waved the bottle under his nose, smelling it. 

Alexander was still moping in hot sexual frustration as he chewed his roll, scowling at Thomas’s actions.

“New bottle? Why?” he commanded.  
“Tone.” Thomas reminded, rolling the bottle around a bit, swirling the insides. “I thought we should pop open a new one for tonight.” he spoke, turning to Alexander on the bed, gripping the bottle loosely, “a celebration.” he raised it, “To a shining capital city.”

“And debt reversal throughout the states.” Alexander reminded, scooting closer. It was fragrant, that was for sure. Definitely old.  
“And debt reversal.” Thomas repeated. “Would you like to taste first?” 

“Whatever. It’s rich boy alcohol, and it’s free. Hit me up.” Alexander clipped, reaching for it. Thomas pulled it away.  
“Hey!”  
“Hello. This is very expensive and old, Alexander. I’d like to see some class.” 

“You swagger around enough class for the both of us.” Alexander snorted, obeying nevertheless. Thomas cocked his eyebrow at Alex’s obedience in a “that’s what I thought” sort of way, slowly bringing the bottle back towards him.

“Here, Alexander. Be nice.” he handed it over slowly, watching his expression carefully. Alex seized it by the neck and tilted it back, taking a swig like he would some whiskey. As he put it down his eyes widened involuntarily. 

“Like what you taste?” Thomas chuckled, pulling Alex back into his arms, shuffling back down into the blankets and pillows with him so that they were comfortably lying down. 

“Uh.” Alex spoke, taking another small sip, “It’s okay.” he shrugged, completely failing to hide that it was the best wine he’d ever tasted. Thomas only laughed and took the bottle back, pressing it to his lips casually, leisurely, as Alexander shifted closer, getting comfortable on Thomas. He settled his head to rest between Thomas’s shoulder and chest. 

Alexander sighed as he cuddled up close, making sure the blanket was up to his chin as he nestled. Thomas tightened the arm around his waist, kissing him lightly on the top of the head as he held the bottle loosely in the other hand. 

The two were quiet for quite some time, passing the bottle back and forth once or twice. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence at all. There was no tension, no forced words. Just… them. 

The rain continued to patter and cascade all around them, the warm light of the fire dancing on their little scene, warming their feet; it popped and hissed. There was nothing in the night except these white noise sounds… and the rhythmic breathing of the enemies. Until…

Alexander’s ears perked up, alert. There came a sound, a sound nature couldn’t produce on its own, a beautiful clear note that held. It was joined by another and then another, all holding the same note. After a few seconds, he realized it was violins tuning. 

“Thomas.” he poked his partner in the ribs, who turned his head to him.  
“Um. Ow.” Thomas scoffed. 

“Are your neighbors having a party of something?” he asked eagerly, eyes leaving Thomas to scan the darkness.  
“How the hell would I know?”  
Alexander saw nothing through the thick tree coverage. But he could hear it. 

“They’re playing music, Thomas. They must have a string quartet going on over there.” he craned once more but settled back down in the blankets when he saw nothing. There were a few moments of silence where Thomas just looked at him blankly. And then the music began. 

The strings commenced together, beginning to play a warm, light-hearted melody. It only took a moment for Alexander to realize that it was a waltz. His face lit up like Christmas.  
“Thomas!”  
“What.” Thomas spoke blandly, blinking in boredom.  
Alex smiled, wanting Thomas to understand his excitement, “Music.” he laughed, face falling a bit when Thomas only raised an eyebrow boredly.  
“And?” 

That’s when Alex realized that Thomas could hire music whenever he wanted. Hell, He probably had his own string quartet waiting at his beck-and-call. Unlike Alexander.  
“It’s pretty.” Alex settled back against Thomas, closing his eyes. 

There were only a few moments of stillness before Alexander began to sway. He was swaying pretty passionately, moving his arms as well like he was conducting. Thomas’s brows knitted; he watched for a minute. 

“Are you well?” he spoke, looking down. Alexander didn’t stop at his words.  
“I’m dancing.”  
Thomas snorted. “That’s dancing? My apologies, I mistook it for a stroke.” Alexander pretended not to hear him, sitting up from the warm bed, pulling away from Thomas as the taller man tried to snag him back down but missed. Alex turned his head enthusiastically, grinning. 

“Let’s dance.” he spoke, thrilled. Thomas rolled his head back, groaning a bit.  
“Alexander Hamilton we are not dancing.” he said dryly, placing the wine bottle on the table. 

“Oh come on, why not.” Alex whined pulling the blankets aside and clambering out of the bed, bumping Thomas a bit. “You can’t dance?” he asked teasingly, pulling the covers off of him too. 

“Of course I can dance. You don’t think my education covered these areas?” he sneered aristocratically.  
“Well, I can’t dance.” Alexander admitted; he was swaying and spinning to the music now, “So you won’t be shown up, don’t worry.” Alex mocked as if he always showed Thomas up.

“Oh,” Thomas scoffed, nodding, “I’m not worried.” he affirmed as he watched Alex’s movements.  
“Then get your ass up.” 

Thomas rolled his eyes, only hesitating for a moment. He exhaled annoyedly and groaned as he swung his legs out of the bed, only doing this to appease Alexander. The man would never shut up if he didn’t cave. He had no choice.  
“One song only.” he growled. 

“Two.” Alex said, and Thomas shot him a warning glance, cocking his eyebrow.  
“Please.” Alexander added politely, bowing his head in submission. He was really sucking up to Thomas for this one. 

“Fine. Come here.” Thomas commanded, beckoning.  
And Alexander’s reaction was priceless; he lit up like a Christmas tree and hopped to Thomas immediately searching to interlace their fingers, a bit breathless. 

Thomas’s heart skipped a beat. His breath caught in his throat momentarily. God his own reaction surprised him more than he’d ever thought it could. Thomas exhaled slowly. 

“No, only hold left hands, Alexander.” he ordered, letting go of his right.  
“Kay, what I do with the other arm?” Alex inquired curiously, holding it out awkwardly.  
“Yours goes up here.” he narrated, gently taking Alex’s elbow and guiding his arm to rest on the tall man’s shoulder. Alexander looked up at him with his milky-brown eyes, making Thomas’s heart flutter. 

“Mine goes here.” Thomas narrated, slower now, slipping his right arm around Alexander’s waist and back. 

Alexander was still gazing at him, happy little smile playing on his face. Thomas held back the need to gulp as he stared right back, mapping the brown of his eyes. Why was he acting like this? Get your shit together, Thomas. 

“The steps.” he tried to pull himself back on track, but he was lost in Alexander’s eyes by now.  
“A waltz is six steps. I’m going to start and you follow my lead, got it?” he dictated carefully, pulling Alexander a little closer, pressing his hips against his body. 

“This is one.” Thomas stepped forward, so Alexander stepped back.  
“Good.” he breathed, looking down at him, “Keep following my steps.” 

Thomas moved with the music now, placing his feet in time with the three-beat melody. The aristocrat glided gracefully, clearly knowing the steps and posture like second nature. Alexander followed as best as he could; he was adorable to watch. The tip of his tongue stuck out the corner of his mouth as he squinted in deep concentration with his task. Taking every step extremely deliberately. 

Thomas gazed down at him warmly the whole time that Alex only looked at his feet, focusing. As the song continued, the strings kept up their warm, cheerful melody. It was a beautiful sound, even through the sheets of summer rain that fell to the dark earth. Alexander and Thomas looped and glided across the covered porch. 

It didn’t take too long for Alexander to get the hang of it, memorizing the steps, following Thomas’s reliable guidance at his waist so that they were stepping in perfect synchronization.

The little man laughed as Thomas spun him around once.  
“Stop it, asshole, you’re trying to mess me up.” he gravitated back towards his partner for the next steps. Thomas grinned amusedly, pulling Alex’s body as close as possible. The strings built up, signifying the end of the song. 

Thomas swept Alexander through the last few steps, and as the music concluded on a long, strong chord, he wrapped both arms snugly under Alex’s shirt, leaning forward to dip him low and deeply.  
Alex trusted Thomas’s movements, falling back into the dip and closing his eyes. Silence fell after the strike of the chord, both breathing heavily from the dance. There was nothing but rainfall. 

Thomas’s face was close to Alexander’s, and Thomas hesitated only for a moment, leaning forward ever so slightly to press his lips to his partner’s. They stayed like that for a long time, quiet. 

Thomas pulled his lips away slowly, opening his eyes as he deliberately lifted Alexander back to standing.  
Alex gazed up at him, laughing just a bit, “Showoff.” he breathed. Thomas smirked, stepping forward to press their pelvises together and he wrapped both his arms around Alex’s middle. 

“One more. You said so.” Alexander reminded, reaching up to rest his hands behind Thomas’s neck. Thomas’s heart thudded in his chest. He felt something; God, he felt something and it was strong, so fucking strong. He didn’t like how vulnerable it made him feel, how raw and unpredictable it made him. He was never like this, and for once he was scared. But as he gazed down into those eyes… the WAY Alexander looked at him… 

“Alexander…” He breathed. No. Stop, where were these words coming from?  
“Yes.” Alex blinked up at him, wide eyes full of… something. 

“Alexander, I…” he began once again. His tongue was twisted, his heart was pounding, his insides felt all mixed up.  
“You what?” Alex prompted, laughing a bit. He cocked his head. Thomas took a deep, slow breath, exhaling shakily. 

“I…” No. Stick with the plan. Tell him, but tell him when you planned to. Not now. Not now. He swallowed, shaking his head a bit to clear it.  
“I think we should go out to dinner tomorrow.” he spoke cooly, in control once again, thank God, “After the Compromise is signed and done.” 

“Why?” Alex blinked up at him, confused.  
“To celebrate. Come on. You love food and…” You love me, you love me, you love me… “You love expensive wine. You’re going.” Of course, it was more of a command than it was an offer, but either way, Alexander grinned softly. 

“Okay.” That was all the response he needed to give to Thomas. Alex nuzzled closer, resting his head on Thomas’s chest. He could hear his heartbeat. It was thudding deep and fast. 

“You alright?” He spoke, voice muffled as he snuggled into Thomas.  
“Of course.” Thomas hugged Alex closer, planting a kiss on his head. The music had started up again, this time a deep, slow, bittersweet melody. 

The two began to sway ever so slowly holding on like nothing else was real. Alex nuzzled his face up to Thomas’s searching for his lips once again. With an ache in his heart, Thomas accepted, pressing gently into Alexander. 

Their mouths opened and closed at a crawling pace as they swayed. The rain thundered around them; the sad hymn of the strings carried through the night. And Thomas’s heart cried out as loud as it could. 

I love you. He wished that Alexander could feel it against his chest, screaming out the words. Oh, it would be so much easier if Alexander just knew. Just woke up tomorrow and knew. But that wasn’t an option. Tomorrow, Thomas would have to tell him; he had to. He must.

Pressing deeper into Alex’s mouth, he could see the scene right now. Candlelit dinner, warm hand in his. “I love you, Alexander Hamilton.” Nothing but warm, brown eyes. Tomorrow… Tomorrow… 

Until then, he held Alexander close to his chest as his heart softly chanted.  
I love you, I love you… I love you…


	32. Circumvention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so the compromise is made... and Alexander copes with his feelings of guilt that he has secretly cheated Thomas, scammed him with the powers the compromise gives him. The two go out to dinner, where Thomas gives Alex back the Reynolds letter and is just about to tell him the three big words, when two VERY unexpected people walk in. Alex and Thomas flee the scene in a flurry of panic and thrilled exhilaration, and Thomas vows to tell Alexander TONIGHT, no matter where they are...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Read on, darlings! And have a wonderful New Year's Eve! 😊 P.S. Your comments mean the world to me, thank you so much 💕

“It still won’t go down.”  
Thomas came up behind him in the mirror. “I can see that, Alexander.”  
“Well, what the hell, Thomas. Offer a solution or something.”  
“You’re not doing squat-shit, Alexander.” 

Alex whimpered a frustrated sigh, turning his head in the mirror. He grimaced at the sight of his intensely curly hair. They’d been braiding it and leaving it in too long now, leaving the brown locks with a beach-wave and no explanation for it. 

“We could try wax.” Thomas suggested boredly from behind him, tying his cravat, reflection visible as he towered over his little partner. Alex patted the top of his head, resting his hands there. 

“I am NOT putting wax on my fucking hair.” he spoke, not looking at Thomas as he tilted his head back and forth.  
“Here.” Thomas reached around Alex’s waist to the washbasin and dipped his hand in, slathering it on the immigrant’s dark hair that curled around his head like lion’s mane. 

“Hey!” Alex protested, wiggling away.  
“Stand still.” Thomas held him in place, running his fingers through his hair thoroughly.  
“You’re gonna drip on my only clothes.” Alexander pouted, grumbling, “If you’d just let me keep clothes here…”  
“Oh shut it, Alexander; we already solved that.” he sneered, gathering Alexander’s hair behind his head. 

“Ribbon.” Thomas requested, and Alexander handed it to him over his shoulder, crossing his arms exasperatedly. Thomas pulled his hair into a ponytail, tying it up neatly.  
“There, see. The world didn’t implode.” Thomas rolled his eyes, patting Alex’s head in satisfaction with his handiwork. 

“It’s curling at the bottom.” Alexander grumbled, but Thomas was already strolling out of the bathroom, fully dressed in his finest outfit which probably cost more than Alexander’s land. 

“Hey,” Alexander called, catching up as they entered Thomas’s study, the Virginian gathering up all their paperwork, “When Madison gets here, where will I be?” 

Thomas didn’t pause his movements, collecting the parchment into a neat pile and lifting it with dainty grace.  
“You’ll be waiting in the stables and when you see him come in, wait, and then you can come.” Thomas lifted his head and began to stride back towards the parlor, past Alexander. The little man gaped in offense. 

“Ay wait one fucking minute, jackoff.” Alexander scowled, lunging to snag his coat sleeve and pull him back.  
“Don’t touch me.” Thomas snarled, whirling back around. His dark eyes were already full of hostile warning. Back down, Alexander. 

Alex only stood taller, crossing his arms. “So I’m just going to wait outside like a dog for that walking pneumonia to show up?”  
Thomas curled his lip to bare his canines, “Precisely. Now, where was your confusion, Alexander?” he enunciated clearly, voice calm despite his bristling attitude. 

Alexander only scoffed, rolling his eyes. He knew he’d have to do as he was told; there was no time to protest, but that didn’t mean he had to be nice about it.  
“Fine, Jefferson.” he sneered, stepping closer to get all up in his face. Thomas only twitched his eyebrows down at Alex, approving at his submission and warning him to stay down. 

“I just find it extremely irksome that you always make me wait to come.” Alexander couldn’t help but smile as he growled his words.  
Thomas blinked down slowly, ENORMOUSLY unimpressed. 

“Wow, Alexander.” he drawled, sighing, “Your puns are always ass but that was another level of ass.” he spoke, turning from Alexander with a little smirk of his own as he continued towards the dining room. 

“I saw you smile.” Alexander mocked, following him through the halls and into the room. Thomas laid out all the papers in a perfectionist manner, making sure everything was perfectly in place for the crucial meeting. They had already spent half the morning baking the bread in the pretty basket at the table center. It had been done mostly without too much throwing of flour and totally not a wooden spoon and matching bowl.

Thomas stood back, knuckles to lips to observe his work, nodding slowly.  
“Good. This is adequate.” he nodded in self satisfaction. Alexander crossed to the other end of the table to stand next to Thomas, taking in the setup too. 

“Adequate!” Alex scoffed in mock hurt, turning his shocked, pained face up to Thomas, “I worked hard on that bread, did you see me knead the dough? I was good at kneading the dough.” he spoke, wide eyes trying not to smile as Thomas laughed down at him, stepping close to take his hands.

“Alexander…” he breathed, smiling the sweetest, most loving smile he could muster. He intertwined their fingers, pulling Alexander a step closer. The Virginian sighed, gazing down into those warm, brown eyes. “You absolutely sucked.” 

“Bitch-” Alexander sneered, bumping his shoulder into Thomas’s, more playful than rough as Thomas snickered to himself cruelly. Thomas tried to step back to Alex but the little man turned a cheek, loftily. 

“No, no.” Alex clipped quickly, raising a hand, “I’m not talking to or making bread with you ever again. That’s my final word.”  
Thomas ignored him, pestering him relentlessly into his arms for a firm kiss on his forehead.  
“Thank fucking God.” Thomas snorted, shoving Alexander into his embrace, “I’ve been waiting for the day you close your rather unfortunately-sized mouth since I came back from France.” 

Alex broke away, crossing his arms and raising his chin, refusing to speak. Thomas only laughed at his behavior, that uncomfortable warm feeling spread through his chest as he watched. God, he wished it would go away, but there was no chance. Or maybe there was.

Three feeble thumps sounded from the front of the house, making the pair’s heads turn. There was a hesitation.  
Alex chortled, “Let me guess, that knock sounded like a half-dead child with scarlet fever, so it must be Madison.”  
“Be nice, Alexander.” Thomas warned cooly, straightening his cuffs daintily. 

“Out you go.” Thomas steered Alex’s shoulders towards the dining room door, reaching around him to open it. “M’lady.” Thomas bowed and gestured outside, releasing his deepest southern accent. 

“Flattered.” Alexander monotoned, stepping outside as Thomas propelled him a bit with a swift kick to the ass. This was going to be fun. He turned around one last time.  
“Don’t forget to act like you hate me.” Alexander reminded, stepping back to put a hand on the door. Thomas only laughed slightly through his nose.  
“'Act'.” Thomas snorted with air quotes. 

“Fuck you.” Alex breathed as they both leaned in for a quick kiss. 

“Run along now, my little stable boy.” Thomas chirped in taunting cruelty.  
“Mmph.” Alex grunted, flashing the middle finger over his shoulder as he trudged away from the house. Despite the obscene gesture, he felt this uncomfortable warm feeling expanding slowly in his chest. As the door clicked closed and he strolled through the cool morning, the warm feeling still stayed. 

He had to admit… he’d been feeling it so much more than he should be. And it just kept getting more and more powerful. He’d embraced it; he’d let it fill him up and carry him away but…  
that was before Eliza’s letter. 

Alexander rounded towards the white stables, shoes crunching on the gravel as he approached the stalls. Birds twittered in the morning breeze. The letter had made him realize that this whole thing, it was real. And, fuck, Eliza was involved now. And Martha Jefferson. And since the night at the tavern, Burr was too.

Alexander stepped up towards Tarquin’s stall, the horse eagerly emerging to the front to greet him, snorting. Alexander rubbed his nose solemnly. 

The letter had put everything painfully into perspective. And that was why he had done the unspeakable to Thomas without him even knowing. 

The US Capital could go wherever the hell Thomas wanted. Because Alex’s financial plan unwittingly gave him the power to keep the banks right here in the same spot. The decision was obvious at first, ingenious. It was the night he had spent awake, planning, where he realized the unchecked power in his hands. He had won; he had gotten the best of the other man. He had won…

But as time continued, it didn’t feel like he had. Now, as he walked, he was stabbed by a pang of guilt in his chest. He shoved it away, not allowing himself to feel it, not now. 

Alexander sighed, drawing his hand away from the horse’s soft nose. He walked down the side of the stable quietly and willed the fire to burn in his eyes once more, where it belonged. Thomas Jefferson would do the same thing to him. Thomas Jefferson would backstab him and betray him if he could. It was only right that Alexander did this. Thomas would do the same.  
Wouldn’t he? 

And a part of Alexander Hamilon wished to turn his back and run right then and there. Leave Madison, leave Congress and the Cabinet and compromises and plans and Burr and the guilt around Eliza. He wanted to run. God… if he could just grab Thomas’s hand and run. 

Alexander sighed once more, a hurricane of guilt, fire, fear, and ferocity whirling inside of him.  
And then it stilled

In the end there was only one person on his mind as he strolled back up around the house, fire slowly rekindling in his eyes. Himself.

Thomas was his world. But Alexander was his legacy. He knew what he needed to do. There was such a difference between what he could have and what he could keep. 

**

“Madison.”  
“Jefferson.”  
“Come in.” Thomas smiled at the man who smiled right back, a bit strained, as usual. The two clunked through the house, expensive leather shoes on wood as they navigated the hallways towards the dining room. 

Thomas rounded behind a chair once he entered the room, sighing and gestured towards another for Madison.  
“Please, sit.” he exhaled as he lowered himself down into his own, tossing his coattails out behind him. James set his work case on the table, clicking it open and sighing. 

He began to unload his notes. “You know, Tom, I will say I’m appalled you are agreeing to this.” he mentioned offhandedly as he shuffled his papers.  
Thomas placed his head on his knuckles, cocking his head haughtily. “And why is that?” he prompted, curious. 

“Is it not obvious?” James laughed slightly, which quickly turned into a cough. Thomas leaned to hand him a napkin casually as though it was normal procedure, but Madison waved him away, determined to fight this one off. 

“I assure you, James, that what may appear as a radical change in view is solely for the common benefit. A stalemate in Congress won’t help shit.” Thomas explained cooly. 

“Oh no, not that.” James, waved it off, leaning back in his seat and folding his hands over his belly, “I knew you’d come to your senses and compromise eventually, Tom.” he spoke with complete assurance, “But I thought you’d be more difficult with Hamilton.” 

Thomas blinked, “Difficult?” he waved a hand, motioning for elaboration. James only chuckled.  
“I thought you’d need my motivation to sit down in the same room as that man. Apparently not.” he smiled lightly. There was a strange tint in his eye for a moment… almost... Knowing. Thomas didn’t let his face give up anything. 

James sniffed, grabbing a piece of bread from the table and reassuming his regular nature, “Quite frankly, Tom, I’m glad. I didn’t want to coax your stubborn ass into the logical solution.”  
Thomas laughed through his nose, face still unmoving and emotionless. Madison was the only man besides Washington who was allowed to speak to him like that. 

There was a knock on the door. And then another, loud and vigorous. James made eye contact with Jefferson.  
“Thinking about opening it?” James spoke, raspy sick voice as usual.  
“He’ll come in.” Thomas shook his head in annoyance. And he knew Alexander too well to be wrong as they heard the door swing open and close. 

Alexander’s confident footsteps approached the hall, getting louder. The closer he got, the more Thomas had to hide his growing smirk. 

With two clunks, he was there. The immigrant stopped in the doorframe, standing firm and arrogant as he always did. His fiery eyes glinted as he gazed in the room, burning into each of the men. 

Thomas met the insufferable little politician’s eyes coldly. Alexander tried not to smirk back, upholding his cocky facade that was so natural. Something in his heart panged and he smothered it out.

“Secretary Hamilton.” Thomas spoke formally, nodding deeply and gesturing to a chair across from him. Their locked brown eyes never strayed,  
“Come in.” 

**

“And I did not fancy your little comment on my ‘unbearable lack of assertion’, Alexander.” Thomas growled, continuing his long list of complaints from the day. The only response was a sloshing sound from the bathroom and a muffled voice. 

“Well at least I ain’t a liar.” Alex called. They were in Alexander’s house now, preparing to go out to dinner at the restaurant Leonne, that Thomas had visited before. Of course, the Virginian had to approve the immigrant’s outfit before they went anywhere. 

“Alright, that’s it.” thomas sighed, standing from the bed and brushing off his coat. He observed himself cockily in the mirror, chin tilted up, “Come out. Now.” Thomas snarled, straightening his cravat.

The door opened and Alexander stuck out just his head, fully dressed in his fanciest outfit.  
“What?” he sneered rawly.  
“Pants down. Over my knee.” Thomas drawled dryly, returning to the bed and lowering himself onto it. “I can’t have you talking like this. You know that.” 

“Fuck you. We have to go in, like, five minutes.”  
“Since when does your whore-ass care about being late?”  
“Since when does yours not?” 

Thomas’s mouth screwed up as he seethed, getting himself angry far quicker than he would have imagined. He could fit in a good spanking in, oh definitely. Alexander had been asking for it all day; he had it coming. 

Thomas reached forward and snagged Alexander’s hair, pulling it roughly. All the little immigrant could manage was a strangled little yelp.

“Alexander Hamilton, what am I going to do with you?” Thomas shook his head in exasperation, twisting the hair. Yes. There was time.  
Alex scowled up, “I have a couple of guesses.” he retorted. 

Thomas slapped him across his dirty mouth, “Alright, now we are. Definitely. Going to be late.” 

**

Alexander grimaced as he sat down at the table for two, trying to hide his cringing as the waiter greeted them. As he left to fetch water, Thomas looked across the table at Alexander and smirked in amusement.

“Something wrong Hamilton?” his brown eyes glinted.  
“Oh go fuck yourself.” Alex grumbled, shuffling in his chair and wincing Thomas laughed and placed his napkin on his lap loftily. Once Alexander was finally comfortable, he looked around at the place. It was a complete marvel, a work of art. 

Hushed voices filled the dimly candlelit space, its dome arching high into the night with a skylight above, revealing the starry New York City sky. A Renaissance-style mural decorated the dome, but it wasn’t too visible in the evening, and a group of eight musicians played strings and piano softly. Candles flickered at each table, glinting off the golden cutlery and glasses. 

The waiter returned with a bread basket covered in cloth, and water. He bowed after setting it down, addressing Thomas almost nervously. He coughed.  
“Secretary Jefferson, I pray not to disturb your evening but I just have to say that it is an honor to meet your presence, sir.” 

There was a pause as Thomas’s lips parted mischievously, slowly turning his smug, positively delighted face to Alexander as he spoke, “Thank you for your compliment sir. I am most flattered.” Alexander gaped for a moment and smiled a taut smile, utter outrage and a playful “I see how it is” on his face.

He coughed slightly, “Yeah, uh, Secretary Hamilton here. Hi.” he spoke up obnoxiously, leaning back in his seat to smile at the waiter. “I’m that guy that’s in charge of your wallet, so how about your finest bottle of wine, kid.” Alex suggested brattily, making the waiter’s eyes go wide. 

“Of course, Secretary Hamilton. My apologies.” He bumbled, Alex only hummed and turned his head back to Thomas as the waiter skittered away through the tables. The two’s brown eyes met each other, both glinting in amusement and mischief. 

“Real smooth, Jefferson. You pay him to do that?” Alex hummed, placing his head on his fist.  
“In your dreams, Alexander.” Thomas smirked, laughing at this perfect, perfect situation. Alexander only mocked Thomas’s laugh like a twelve-year-old, rolling his eyes and sneering. 

“Alexander you are a child.” Thomas spoke, handing him a piece of bread, “An overgrown child with the nation’s finances in his hands. Try this, you’ll like it.”  
Alex took it reluctantly and tasted, still bitter at his partner. 

“Not as good as my bread.”  
“OUR bread.”  
“I did most of it.”  
“You kneaded the dough, Alexander. I literally gave you the only part that you couldn’t possibly fuck up.” 

Alexander looked down at his feet, swinging them, and gazed back up at Thomas with those puppy eyes.  
“And I didn’t, right?” he stuck out his bottom lip, pouting. Thomas only rolled his eyes at Alex’s search for praise, snorting. 

“Yes, Alexander. You did great. Without your skill I daresay the bread would be ruined.” Alexander beamed exaggeratedly at Thomas as the waiter filled up their wine glasses a bit shakily. 

“To our bread. And our compromise.” Thomas raised his daintily from below, a true aristocrat.  
“To us.” Alexander spoke in agreement, gripping his like it was whiskey and touching it to Thomas’s. 

As Alexander tilted his head back, taking the wine like an obnoxious college boy, he hardly even noticed Thomas twitch, take half a sip and then set his down slowly. He tapped his fingernails on it, licking his lips before he looked back up to Alexander. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Alexander slurred rudely around a large chunk of bread, chewing it like a fucking horse. Thomas, who would usually scold him for such manners, only licked his lips again, lacing his fingers.  
“Uh, Speaking of ‘us’, Alexander,” he began, reaching into the folds of his jacket, “I… Have something I must return to you.” 

“Yippee is it my anal virginity?” Alex drawled boredly, picking at a tooth. He was so calm, so natural like usual. Why was Thomas all fidgety?  
Thomas shot him a cold, warning-scowl, as he produced from his coat a thick piece of paper. 

“A puppy?” Alexander guessed again as Thomas set it on the table, sliding it over towards his partner with his fingertips. 

Alexander paused, looking at it, and shot Thomas a curious glance as he hesitantly picked it up and turned it over. The blood red seal glinted in his eyes, making his jaw drop at the sight.

No.

“Thomas…?” he spoke, slowly lifting his head back up from the parchment. 

“The Reynolds letter. Seal, envelope, and all.” Thomas listed, nodding deeply. Alexander remained in a bit of shock, turning it over, still gaping. “… Why?” he asked, genuinely confused. What was Thomas up to, why was he giving this back to him? 

“Because I won’t be needing it anymore.” 

Alexander looked up at him, face completely blank. 

Thomas sighed, lacing his fingers on the table and leaning forward, licking his lips as he searched for words.  
“I kept this with me as leverage against a political enemy.” he began. Alexander looked on, wordless.  
“I kept it as a safeguard so that you couldn’t dream of breaking the Rules or deceiving me politically. And now my statement stands: as of today, I don’t need it anymore.” 

Alexander’s brown eyes reflected the flickering candlelight, a very unnamable emotion hidden in them. He blinked. “What are you talking about?” It came out a bit quieter than he meant, and he coughed slightly to try and cover. Thomas didn’t seem to notice. 

“Look, you made the Compromise. If that isn’t a reason to be giving this back to you, I don’t know what the hell is.” he finished, “You proved to me that I don’t need it. So if you want it back, here it is.” 

Alexander’s heart fell. The feeling was one of the worst he had ever experienced, a sharp pang of emotion stabbed in his chest... Guilt. He had cheated Thomas with the Compromise. But Thomas didn't know that.  
He nodded solemnly. Do the right thing, Alexander. Do the right thing, goddamn it!

Instead, he looked at his hands.

“You’re right.” he spoke softly, laughing a bit through his nose. The immigrant shoved away the pang in his chest, the icky, clinging feeling of guilt. Just focus on Thomas, this is about Thomas. Alexander forced his eyes back up to his partner’s brown gaze.

“Thank you. Thomas.” he nodded, slipping the letter awkwardly into his coat pocket. Thomas only nodded calmly, his eyes stern as usual as he took another casual sip of his wine. It was Alexander’s turn to be the fidgety one. The letter felt so wrong in his front pocket against his chest. It felt like that affair was a million miles away, and yet everything came back to it no matter where he turned. 

Thomas coughed slightly, looking around a bit before settling back on Alexander.  
“Hamilton.” he spoke, chin in the air as he reached across the table for Alex’s smaller hand. Alex’s eyes darted to his, shocked by the touch at first, but he slowly interlaced their fingers. 

Relax. This is Thomas, just Thomas. He needed to chill the fuck out; tonight was supposed to be fun. He would make it fun. Just relax.  
Alexander smiled, easing up and loosening almost immediately at Thomas's touch.

“Jefferson.” he responded in the exact same tone, mocking his deep, southern twang adorably. Thomas grinned and leaned in just a little closer, exhaling a deep long breath as he looked down at their hands for several drawn out seconds. 

He finally lifted his gaze to Alexander’s, squeezing his hand just a bit.  
“Alexander, there’s something I need to ask of you.” 

But at that exact moment, Alexander’s attention leaped to something else in the restaurant. He didn’t even hear Thomas’s words. Alexander’s stomach lurched; an icy wave of alarm washed over him.

“It’s something that I-”  
“Thomas…” Alex gulped. His partner growled and rolled his eyes. 

“Alexander could you not interrupt me for two fucking minutes?” The immigrant ignored him, pulling his hand away and sitting up tall on his chair craning to the other side of the restaurant by the entrance. Thomas scowled at his partner, irritated. 

“What the hell are you staring at?” Thomas snarled, making Alexander turn back to him, eyes wide and full of dread. The Treasurer gulped.  
“Thomas… Either I’m fucking hallucinating or President George Washington and James Madison just walked in…” 

No…

Thomas’s heart swooped into his stomach with panic, but he didn’t let anything show on his face. There was a deafening pause as they both turned their heads to look at the front of the restaurant. 

No fucking way. Madison and Washington were, indeed, standing together getting ready to be seated. Alexander’s head whipped back to Thomas, panic written all over his eyes.  
“Shit. We have to get out of here.” he breathed, “They can’t see us.”  
Thomas crossed his arms, trying to hide his growing anxiety, “Why?” he drawled, gesturing with his head for an explanation. 

“Thomas.” Alex scoffed, laughing incredulously, “We’re dining alone at a table for two. What the fuck do you think this looks like? A business meeting?”  
“Hey, wise guy, calm the fuck down.” Thomas snarled, silencing Alexander. “We can’t just fucking leave. We haven’t paid or eaten a damn thing.”  
And I haven’t said what I was trying to say, Thomas continued in his head.

“Ever heard of dine and dash?” Alexander breathed, looking around quickly. Thomas sneered at the phrase.  
“That is for children and criminals, Hamilton, of which I am neither.” he spoke pompously, leering as his lip curled in disdain. 

“Sorry to burst your bubble, your highness, but If you don’t want the fucking President asking why the enemies of the century are on a goddamn date, we’re gonna have to haul-ass out of here.” He looked around to the front, Madison and Washington were being led in their general direction; they hadn’t noticed them though. 

Alex’s panic bubbled over, “And quickly, okay, let’s go.” he stood hastily, tossing his napkin onto the table and pushing his chair back. Thomas shook his head in complete disbelief over what he was about to do, but pushed his chair back as well, standing. 

“I’m going to beat the shit out of you for making me do this, Hamilton.” Thomas growled lowly, striding to catch up to and follow Alexander. 

“I know, come on.” Alex urged, grabbing Thomas’s hand to pull him along. Despite everything, Thomas’s heart still leaped at the feeling. They weaved through tables. 

“There’s gotta be a backdoor by the kitchens…” Alexander reasoned, steering them both away from the crowd towards a back hallway.  
“Done this before, lowlife?” Thomas sneered the rhetorical question sarcastically. 

“Yeah, I always prefer the backdoors, if you know what I mean.” Alexander winked over his shoulder as they jogged down an empty corridor. There was an exit at the end of it; thank god. Alexander knew his stuff. Relief flooded the Virginian as he realized they were going to get out.

And now that they were in the clear, somehow this was… not so awful, even fun. Recklessly running around, breaking some rules, dodging trouble. Something about it was exhilarating. Thomas snagged Alexander’s hair, yanking him back with a yelp. 

“Hey!-” he was cut off as Thomas pinned him to the wall, devouring his mouth with his own hot tongue. Alex dug his nails into Thomas’s scalp, ruffling his hair.  
“Thomas stop.” he smiled against the taller man’s mouth, “You’re going to get us caught.” he grinned, as Thomas grinded him against the wall. 

“Mm.” he grunted, not letting up as he ravaged Alex’s mouth, “You like the idea of us getting caught, though. Don’t you.” It was a statement, not a question. Thomas pulled away, biting Alex’s pulse point for a second before watching the little man lean against the wall and run his fingers through his hair, panting. 

“You are evil, Thomas Jefferson.” he pouted as Thomas pulled the door open, the cool night air brushing their faces.  
“My pleasure.” Thomas responded, walking out. He stopped once they were on the street. 

“Where the hell are we supposed to go now?” he turned to Alexander. “Not to that ungodly pigsty you call a house.”  
“Ha. Ha.” Alexander rolled his eyes, bumping into Thomas as he walked by. 

“I know a place. The best tavern in New York City.” he lifted his chin, leading the way, “We can walk. Come on Thomas, darling, you’re falling behind.” he taunted. 

Thomas shook his head in hilarious disbelief. A tavern, for God’s sake. He was going to a tavern. Nevertheless, he ignored the ironic hilarity of this whole situation and followed the little immigrant. He had to reason with himself.  
No matter where they were going, he was telling Alexander tonight. No excuses. Thomas Jefferson was a man who knew what he wanted, and tonight not amount of doubt could stop him. 

**

George and James stepped into the restaurant, warmed by the cozy building and sheltered from the chilly night. The President motioned for James to step forward so he could free him of his coat, and removed it tenderly. 

“This place is beautiful. What a splendid choice, James.” George smiled, handing their coats to the waiter that had just approached them. 

“Good evening Mr. President, Mr. Madison.” he nodded deeply, face glowing with utter honor to be in their presence.  
“Will you be joining the Jefferson-Hamilton party tonight?” he inquired, gesturing forward politely for them to begin walking into the seating area. George and James paused, exchanging glances. 

What…? 

“No sir, just a table for two please…” George requested skeptically, brows furrowed in confusion.  
“Of course, Mr. President.” The waiter bowed, face glowing red with humiliation as he led them to a nicely positioned table by the string octet. 

When he had left them with the wine list, George looked over his menu to peer at James. They were silent for a minute. 

“That was… curious.” he spoke slowly, prompting James, coaxing him to say something. The Virginian representative only nodded quietly, slowly setting down his menu.  
“Very curious.” he responded frailly, pulling out his handkerchief to cough. George looked on, a pained sympathy in his eyes.

He waved for some water for his partner, who took it gratefully, sputtering as he finished his fit.  
“You alright?” George spoke softly, tenderly taking James’s hand. James only managed a feeble nod. They stayed like that for a few moments. 

But George could not get the notion out of his mind.  
“Do you truly think Hamilton and Jefferson came here together?” George whispered lowly, eager for an answer. Madison only shrugged.  
“I haven’t a clue.” he rasped, “They didn’t mention it today…” he trailed off as George only nodded, thinking. 

They were still and quiet as the restaurant buzzed warmly around them. Was it possible…? What were Hamilton and Jefferson doing? Why did they keep doing it?  
If it was what James thought it was... didn't they know it was dangerous?

But as James looked up into those careful, thoughtful blue eyes… the blue eyes that were just for him to keep, he understood. 

He realized that anyone could ask them just the same question.


	33. Heaven Falls Pt. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alexander and Thomas go to the Tavern, and have a little fun in the storage room. But after an unexpected reveal... Thomas says what he'd been waiting to say.   
And Alexander's reaction is not what he expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get ready for part two! Love you all! 😊💕

Thomas stopped dead in his tracks as Alexander motioned towards the door, the most delighted and entertained smile spread across his face. Thoms stopped and positively leered. He’d been leering for the past ten minutes of the walk but now he REALLY leered. 

“No.” he spoke authoritatively, “Not a chance in fucking hell.” he spat. Alexander only smiled and walked back towards Thomas taking his hand.  
“Ohhh come on baby boy.” he purred in exaggeration. Thomas couldn’t slap him or discipline him in the middle of the street. Alexander could do as he pleased, 

“You need to get your head out of the mansions of uptown life and experience the TRUE New York City. And maybe some rats, depends on the time of night.”   
“Alexander…” Thomas’s voice was dripping with dark warning as Alex only pulled. 

“Come on Jeffs.”   
“Don’t call me that.”   
“I’ll suck your dick?” Alex stuck out his bottom lip. Thomas rolled his eyes, sneering. 

“Why would I reward you?” he reasoned, confused. The asshole was so damn egotistical and had no fucking idea. Alexander rolled his head back in frustration, he couldn’t wait to bring him inside and watch what would be a hilarious show out of Thomas. Thomas fucking Jefferson in his favorite tavern. It would drive him damn crazy, he thought with a smile. 

“Come ON.” he pulled, and to his exasperated relief, Thomas complied.   
“THANK you.” he huffed, pushing open the door and holding it for Thomas, who firmly refused to touch it.

Of course, it was bustling as usual. The piano was being played joyfully and a group of people were gathered around it, singing heartily. A crash sounded as a bottle shattered somewhere. Alex looked over his shoulder to Thomas, absolutely relishing this. 

Thomas’s entire face was positively GAPING in a horrified expression; he was dumbfounded. Alex smiled even brighter and waved over to the bar, greeting his friend in the usual way.   
“Oi sam! Over here will ya, you great donkey’s ass.” Sam’s head popped up from behind the bar and grinned as soon as he saw Alexander. 

“Oi Hams! Who dressed you today, trench warfare?” He taunted Alex’s appearance affectionately. The immigrant felt Thomas tense behind him, readying to possibly defend his counterpart, but Alex calmed him with a hidden touch to the arm and laughed at Sam’s usual jesting. 

“Get us a table, you lazy good-for-nothing meat beater.”   
“Will do, ya mangy alley cat.”   
And with that Sam pointed to a table for two close by the roaring fireplace. 

Alex strolled over and plopped down, propping his feet up on the table at an angle that he could still see Thomas. The wealthy Virginian swallowed his blatant disgust and slowly inched down into the chair, trying to touch as little of it as humanly possible. Alexander watched, knuckle to mouth to hide his smile the whole time. 

“Enjoying yourself so far?”   
Thomas only stared at him with the most loathing glare he could muster.  
Alex looked around, confused.  
“What?” he asked at Thomas’s scowling. The Virginian looked across the small table. 

“Who is that.” It was more of a command than a question. Alexander was perplexed at first but then pointed over his shoulder with realization.   
“Sam? The bartender?” He scoffed, laughing. Thomas squinted. 

“Looked a little friendly with him. Any comment on that?” he cocked his head, crossing his arms slowly. Alexander positively laughed. Thomas was unbelievable!  
“Sam’s been my friend since the war; we’ve never done shit.” he shook his head incredulously, “What, ya think he looks like a power dom to you?” 

“Definitely not.” Thomas sneered in disgust, “More like a passing carriage might blow him away.” They sat silently, standing each other off.

Alexander squinted at Thomas, crossing his arms very slowly as well.   
“What?” Thomas spat. Alexander only squinted. 

“You’re jealous again.” he stated, training his dom’s eyes. Thomas’s flared, but his tone remained as calm as ever.   
“I am not ‘jealous’, Alexander.” he spoke cooly, “I simply prefer my men how I prefer my coffee, without several dicks in it.”   
“Clever, Jefferson.” Alexander laughed, uncrossing his arms to receive their whiskey gratefully from Sam. 

“Thanks SAM.” Alexander gazed up at him, putting extra emphasis on the name. He blinked dreamily up at him. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.” The young bartender seemed unfazed by Alex’s behavior.   
“‘N I don’t know what we’d do w’thout you, Hams. Who’d keep us ‘n rent all year?” Alex laughed as Sam disappeared back into the tavern and turned his head back to Thomas. 

The man was already staring at him, eyes dark as he quietly seethed. He shook his head impossibly slowly.   
“Alexander Hamilton you have some nerve, you know that?” his low voice growled darkly.

“I do.” Alexander stated, taking a swig of his whiskey and putting it down with a sigh.   
“You could show me some manners.” he suggested, “There’s a back room and I’m horny.” 

Thomas stared at him, incredibly unimpressed with his straightforwardness.   
“How classy of you.” he sneered.

“Come on, please?” Alexander whipped out the puppy eyes and stuck out his lip, pouting. The little man reached his foot across under the table, gently stroking his calf across Thomas’s   
“For me…?” he pouted, trying not to smirk. 

**

“This… Wasn’t… How… It was…. Supposed to… go.” Thomas growled with every thrust, teeth gritted. The storage room was actually cleaner than he’d thought, but it was smaller than he’d thought too.   
Alexander didn’t seem to hear him through his breathless moans. 

“Oh yes, Thomas… A little to the right… right there…. Oh fuck…” his eyes rolled into the back of his head as he smiled, fucked silly by Thomas’s punishing dick. He was so cock-drunk, melting as Thomas had to force him to keep standing. 

Alexander was standing by a pile of grain sacks, one leg propped up on it as Thomas fucked him mercilessly from behind, pressing the side of his face to the wall with one unyielding hand. The other arm was digging into his hip bones, holding him upright so Thomas could nail him viciously. 

“This is why I can’t fucking take you anywhere, dirty whore.” He breathed, panting into Alexander’s ear as he leaned in to give it a hot lick.   
“Of fuck… Oh Thomas…” Alexander’s hips grinded messily back into Thomas’s now, trying to match his thrusts but slowly failing as he lost control of himself more and more. 

Thomas hammered him way too hard for three thrusts, lifting a hand to cover his mouth roughly as he screamed, and then slowed down to deep and long thrusts, inching impossibly slow. 

Alexander screamed into Thomas’s hand again, back arching away from Thomas, making the Virginian cup his mouth even harder.   
“Shut up, bitch.” he barked, pushing in torturously slowly once more, Alexander’s knees jumped together as he made those cute little gasps, whimpering at the lack of speed. 

Thomas did this to him until he was crying, legs and ribs shaking as he sobbed, trying to push back into Thomas. But for every inch Alex tried to take him in, Thomas would pull away agonizingly.  
Thomas bit the delicate place where the shoulder meets the neck, gently at first, but then deeply enough to leave a lasting mark. Alexander squealed. 

“I said shut up.” Thomas licked up to the dark hickey he’d made last night and pressed on it with his tongue, a deeply painful ache making Alexander silently cry harder as Thomas slid in and out of him at the most agonizing pace. 

“T-T-Thomas PLEASE…” Alexander sobbed from behind Thomas’s hand, jerking just a little bit from the torture, twitching. Thomas sneered, pressing his hand tighter over Alexander’s mouth, making him “Mmph!” 

“Why the fuck should I even consider letting you cum?” He spat, his tone making Alexander cry harder; Thomas rocked back his hips to drag painfully over Alex’s sensitive area as he pulled out. Alexander squeaked. 

“No really, disgusting bitch, why should I? I bring you out to dinner and you can’t behave for forty minutes? Fucking pathetic. You need me to pleasure you all day or you’ll whine and whimper with how fucking horny you are.” Thomas pushed back in and stopped, letting his cock throb against Alexander’s bunch of nerves. The little on only breathed extremely quickly, squeezing his eyes shut and fucking FUCK just TAKES it. 

They were still for thirty seconds as Thomas pressed against Alexander, cruelly watching for his reaction. Thomas didn’t need to do it this long, but he relished in Alex’s little gasps. The immigrant quietly trembled, trying not to scream or grind back into Thomas. 

Thomas’s eyes glinted at his struggle for submission, tilting his head coldly.   
“I’m not touching your cock, if that’s what you’re thinking, slut.” He whispered, pulling out and slamming back in, making Alexander bang against the wall they were at. Alex whimpered pitifully, a tear rolling down onto Thomas’s hand. 

“Have something to say to me? Speak up, cockwhore.” Thomas sneered, ripping is hand from Alexander’s mouth and clamping it on his throat. 

The little man gasped, sputtering a bit before he could speak.  
“Please, Thomas… Please I need it so badly, I’m going to…. You’re going to make me…” 

“No you’re not.” Thomas began thrusting into him once more little ones, halfway and quickly. Alexander only cried harder, sobbing.   
“Let me cu-u-um… Plea-a-ase…” he choked each vowel, weeping as he slowly sank in Thomas’s embrace, melting from pleasure. 

“Daddy…” he whimpered so quietly.  
That’s what did the trick, Thomas smirked and gripped Alexander tighter, giving him the full length, and speeding up gradually so that he wouldn’t get overwhelmed and scream. 

Of course, he screamed anyway, and Thomas had to clap his hand over the little man’s mouth once more.   
“Shut the FUCK up.” he pounded him with every word, harder and harder, “Do you want the whole tavern to know what you are doing? That you’re going to cum helplessly in a cellar like the fucking slut you are. Crying and squirming like a bitch in heat.” he snarled hotly, hitting Alex’s prostate head on faster and deeper each time. 

Now Alex was squeaking with every thrust, getting impossibly close. Thomas could feel him tensing against his body, clenching up around him. 

“Mm! Mm! Mm!” Alexander whimpered with critical urgency, eyes wide open as he jumped and jerked around. It was clear as day what he was trying to tell Thomas. 

“Cum…” Thomas breathed erotically, deep southern accent making Alexander arch and shoot all the way up to his chest, wailing into Thomas’s hand that was gripping so hard it hurt, just to try to keep him quiet. Alex’s eyes rolled back into his head as he smiled and gasped, fucked-stupid. 

Thomas growled and bit Alex’s shoulder violently as he came, filling Alex up to the max as he panted. They stood like that for a few blissful moments, Alexander taking far longer to come down, as usual, from his ecstasy. He twitched and sighed, shivering, squirming his hips in slow circles as he coped with the pleasure. 

After they had both caught their breaths, Thomas pulled out, making Alexander whine.   
“Fuck…” He whimpered, leaning against the wall and covering his face with his hands as he grinned, panting. 

“Still trying to handle the pleasure, Alexander?” Thomas snorted, reaching for the clothes he had neatly folded and tried to place in the cleanest area possible.   
“Ohhh fuck…” was all Alex could manage, shaking his head vigorously and dropping his arms.   
“You’re trouble, Thomas Jefferson.” he pointed feebly, laughing. Thomas scoffed. 

“I am nothing of the sort. You’re a whiny, horny bitch and I put you in your place.”   
“Hallelujah for that.” Alexander placed his hands on his knees, still panting for air just a bit. 

Thomas rolled his eyes, stepping into his pants. “Get dressed.” he ordered, buttoning up his waistcoat with dainty precision, chin elegantly in the air as if he hadn’t just fucked a married politician in the ass. Again. 

Alexander moped, standing up to walk to his clothes.   
“Mr. Bossy…” he complained, scowling at Thomas as he pulled on his pants. The two dressed in silence for a few moments, tugging on shoes and shirts hastily. 

Thomas’s thoughts were running at a thousand miles per hour as he clothed himself. Time was running out tonight. God, there had been so many obstacles already, he’d been trying to tell Alexander the whole fucking night. If only Wasington and Madison had chosen somewhere else to eat, Thomas would have just fucked Alexander in his clean home; given him a romantic, candlelit, rose petal bath; and kissed him until he’d fallen asleep. He’d be his… all his.

But fuck, they were in the cellar of a tavern in the City. Things could not go LESS according to plan, and Thomas hated anything that went in another direction besides: Thomas’s way. It had all been planned out, give Alexander the brand new key to his house that he had had made for him. All sealed up in a beautiful box with satin insides… 

Thomas was lost in thought as Alexander couldn’t help but play around a bit. The immigrant reached into Thomas’s pile, pulling out his lavish, expensive coat. 

“Thomas look, I’m you.” he laughed, pulling it on. Thomas was prepared to snap at him and scold, but with him looking so excited and cute it was probably a sin.   
Alex cleared his throat, the sleeves long surpassing his hands and the hem far below the back of his knees. 

“Alexander, don’t you dare…” Thomas warned half-heartedly, grinning as he watched Alex straighten himself up and throw his nose haughtily in the air. 

“Heeee Haw, I’m Thomus Jeff’rsun.” he drawled, “I la-yuk France ‘n horses, giddy up. Don't do that Alex'nder, don't touch that, Alex'nder. Ding dang dong, cows, cows, crops.”   
Thomas couldn’t help but wheeze at the impression, falling apart with hilariousness. 

“‘Ding dang dong, cows, cows, crops?!” He roared, hardly able to find air to breathe.   
Alexander was giggling too, “Yes.” Was all he could manage. 

Thomas finally caught his breath, wiping his mouth, “G-give that back, Alexander.” he chortled, still laughing a bit.   
Alex stripped it off, smiling as he chucked it at Thomas, hoping to make him miss but with Thomas’s athlicity, he snatched it with one hand over his head. 

And that was when it happened. God, if Thomas had only thought this through.   
But nobody did. As the beautifully carved little box fell from the inner coat pocket, fell on the ground, and bounced, landing right at Alexander’s feet. 

When he comprehended what had just happened, Thomas’s. Heart. Stopped.   
And as Alexander shot him a curious glance and bent down to pick it up, time slowed down. He couldn’t move. 

“Hey Thomas, what’s this?” he asked innocently, brushing it off a bit and bringing it close to his face. His eyes widened.   
“Oh my God… It’s beautiful, who the fuck carved this?” Thomas panicked, heart thudding in his chest. Say something!  
“It must’ve taken ages…” Alexander kept talking, gliding his fingers along the edge to lift the latch and open the box. Thomas finally snapped out of it. 

“Alexander put that down.” he spoke incredibly sternly, his tone hard enough to break diamonds, but Alexander didn’t listen, of course. It was too late as he pulled the lid of the box open and peered inside. 

Thomas felt like he was watching through the eyes of someone else. This wasn’t happening to him. It couldn’t be. Things like this didn’t happen to people like him; things weren’t supposed to go this way. 

Alexander’s eyes widened and his head slowly lifted to look up at Thomas, brows furrowed.   
“Thomas…” he spoke, an edge of skeptical confusion in them, “...What is this?” his brown eyes had an indescribable emotion playing in them. 

Thomas stepped forward, come up with something, goddamnit!   
“It is just my house key, Alexander. Now give it back.” he requested, making a reach for it, but the pesky little bastard fucking pulled it away, knitting his brows even more.

“What’s with the box? You don’t carry your key in a box.” He recalled accurately, “And wait your key is old, this one looks, I don’t know, maybe a week.” He glanced at it and then back to Thomas. “What is this?” 

“I got a new key, alright? and if I were you, I'd seriously consider handing it over.”   
He lunged for it, but Alexander leaped a step back, holding it close to his chest. 

“No.” he spoke simply.   
“Alexander…” Thomas was growling now, closing in on Alex quickly, but the little man ducked under his arm, swooping past him and standing his ground. The immigrant stood still, little box in his hand and stared deep into Thomas’s eyes. They didn’t move for a few moments. 

“You’re lying.” Alexander spoke quietly, simply. 

And it was then that Thomas realized.  
That this was how it would go down. Fuck, this wasn’t how it was supposed to happen but it was out of his control. Something that never happened to him; it shouldn’t. But this is how it was going to happen. Right here. Right now. There was no other choice.

Silence continued for a few more drawn out seconds as Thomas took a deep, shaky breath, gazing back into those eyes. Those eyes… 

“Alexander…” he began. He had practiced this, he fucking hated to admit. But now nothing was coming to him. Nothing was coming together in his head. He wanted to think… but was thinking the right thing to do?

His body took the lead, stepping carefully towards Alexander. The little man looked up at him, warm eyes wide and expectant.   
“Thomas…” he responded, giving him full attention.

The Virginian stopped, looking down on his partner and trailing his fingers down the little one’s arms, finding his hands. Alexander accepted and laced their fingers together. “Thomas, what?” he laughed slightly, quietly. What was going on?

This was the moment. This is where it was going to happen. All of the emotion swirled around him, a hurricane of thoughts. 

“Alexander, you’re right.” he spoke softly, meeting his stern brown eyes with Alex’s.   
“Never thought I’d hear that.” Alex responded, pressing closer just a bit. Thomas exhaled shakily once more. 

“Look,” Just say it, just say it, just… “The dinner, the key, tonight, all of it; it,” He looked around the room searching for words. Alexander kept his eyes on Thomas’s, unrest rising ever so slowly in his chest.   
“I did it because I’ve been trying to tell you something. But you keep fucking running away.” Thomas kept talking; that was the only way he’d ever get it out. Now his words were tumbling out without any proofreading by his head. 

“I had it all planned out but it went to shit, and now we’re in a goddamn cellar with what I’m pretty sure is a rat, and…” he squeezed Alexander’s hands, looking at the ground then back up at Alexander.

“And what I’m trying to say is that I…” He couldn’t find words. 

And then... something shifted into place.  
All of his emotions went still. Everything was suddenly… clear.

“...I… don’t care.” he spoke, the note in his voice was one as if he’d only discovered this thought after he’d said it. Alexander was beginning to panic, for reasons he couldn’t put his finger on.   
“What…?” he prompted Thomas, but Thomas was already going. 

“I don’t care.” Thomas repeated, looking back into Alexander’s eyes, “That’s the thing, Hamilton. I’m in a fucking filthy cellar with rats and dirt and there’s people above me drinking heinously cheap whiskey and I don’t care.” he held onto Alexander like he was the only thing that was real  
"Because… I’m with you.” 

And time slowed down. Everything was completely stilled, as if the world had stopped to watch this moment. Alex wasn’t talking, and Thomas wasn’t stopping. 

“This key,” he motioned to it with his head, “I made it for you, Alexander. It’s a key to my house because fucking hell, whenever you’re not in it, it doesn’t feel like my damn house anymore.” He just couldn’t stop himself now. For the first time his brain wasn’t the part spilling out the words. 

“That one night you were gone, I sat on the porch drinking bourbon on the rocks. If that doesn’t fucking say something, I don’t know what does.”   
He looked around again, shifting to the other foot, 

“I want to run to the lake with you, goddamnit. I want to take care of you when you’re drunk and stay up with you on that stupid porch swing in the middle of the night if I have to. I want to braid your hair and read dumb poetry and run through the rain like fucking idiots trying to get the bread back to the house safe.” he was still looking anywhere but Alexander, the words positively pouring out of him in a flood.

“I want to dance the waltz with you even though you suck and I want you to be the first thing I see in the morning and the last thing I see at night. Because…” He dropped his head to his chest briefly, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes. 

This was it.

He raised them to Alexander.   
“Because I love you.” 

And now the whole world watched.   
As if the moon hushed the entire planet, wanting to see this too. New York City froze in time, only two hearts still beating. Thomas searched Alexander’s deep brown eyes. Those damn eyes… And there was silence. 

Why couldn’t he see something? Why wasn’t there anything there? Moments dragged on. Why wouldn’t Alexander say something? 

Alex’s eyes dropped to the ground, his lips trying to move, but no sound came out at first.  
And then it happened. 

“...No.” he spoke, almost as if it was a question. 

The Virginian’s pounding heart lurched into his stomach; his brows swooped down. 

“No? What do you mean, ‘no’?” he shook his head, laughing nervously, looking for an explanation. He took a step closer but Alex took a step back; he furrowed his brows, looking back up at Thomas with the strangest look in his eyes. 

“I mean: no.” he pulled his hands away from Thomas’s, making the Virginian’s stomach clench with a nameless emotion.

Thomas shook his head, “I don’t-”   
“Thomas, what the fuck is going on with you?” Alexander said on the border of a sneer, “Do you even hear yourself right now?” Alex gestured at him in disbelief with his hand, scoffing. Thomas took a step closer, trying not to get angry, heart still thumping madly. 

What? He couldn’t comprehend this… This wasn’t supposed to be the reaction. Alex was supposed to leap in his arms and kiss him and say it too. 

“I know how I feel, Hamilton, and it took a damn lot to say it.” he pointed passionately at the ground, defending his position. He shook his head; he was the one sneering now.  
“You’re putting on this bullshit mask like you always do. The ‘I don’t feel; I’m emotionless’ horseshit. Just come off it, Alex, can’t you fucking see that I’m,” he licked his lips, taking another breath. It was so hard to do this, “I’m not trying to hurt you.” 

“Oh cut the shit, Jefferson.” Alex scoffed, really getting heated now, taking a sideways step, towards the stairs, “Don’t go making this some sentimental bullshit about my ‘feelings’.” he jabbed an accusing finger in Thomas’s direction, leering, “I can’t believe this. I can’t believe you.” he spoke running a hand through his hair. 

“I mean why would you do this, man?” he gestured openly with his hand for a response, “Did you even fucking think this through in the slightest?” he bashed. Now Alexander was the one who’s words were spilling out, the flow unstoppable as he bashed Thomas. 

The Virginian seethed and opened his mouth to retort but Alex cut him off, on a roll now.   
“You didn’t. You don’t think. What? You think that when our wives, let me say that again, when our WIVES come back from their little hay day they’ll be fine with this? You think we can hide this?” 

Alex scoffed in disbelief. The unfiltered, aggressive politician part of him was out now, taking the reins.   
“But hey, say you become a genius overnight and dream up some solution to this headfuck. How long do you think before Madison finds out, before Burr finds out, before fucking George Washington finds out. We can’t avoid it. Thomas. We’re in the Cabinet. Open you’re fucking eyes; this was supposed to be a one-month sexcapade.” 

“But it’s not. Alexander.” Thomas spat, yelling now as his voice raised , “YOU open your eyes, goddamnit, whether you like it or not this shitshow turned into more than that and you know it.” He pointed an accusatory finger this time, stepping towards Alex. 

The little man only took a couple of steps up the stairs.   
“You KNOW it Alexander.” Thomas repeated, louder with rage. Alex ran a hand through his hair and laughed. 

“You know what, you’re crazy. You’re crazy!” he exclaimed cheerily, dropping his arms to his sides. He shook his head, reaching for the door.   
“This is ridiculous…” 

“You said you loved me!” Thomas called the last thing that he could think of.

Alexander froze, fingers on the knob as he slowly turned his head over his shoulder.   
“What?” he spat, lip curled. 

Thomas exhaled, “Before any of this. YOU said it first. That night when I came to your house.” Alexander slowly turned around; Thomas couldn’t stop himself.  
“You know that it’s true but no matter how fucking true it is you cast it aside like dogshit because you’re too obsessed with your legacy to let yourself actually love someone, Alexander.” 

Thomas’s words echoed in the cellar. There was stillness.   
Alex shook his head slowly the entire time, the darkness hiding that they were watering just the slightest bit. Everything Thomas was saying was true… every word.

“I can’t do this anymore, Thomas.” he spoke firmly, voice icy and void of emotion. The little man reached inside his coat and pulled out the pretty key box, tossing it down the stairs to Thomas who narrowly caught it.   
“And you can keep that. I won’t be needing it.” 

“Alexander...” he spoke slowly, as Alex shook his head, opening the door.

“Alexander!” he called roughly. But he was already out of the door, closing it sternly behind him.   
And there was nothing but silence. 

For a long time, Thomas just stood there. He could faintly hear the sounds of the tavern above. The piano playing. People talking. But down there, he was alone.   
No...

Thomas lowered himself to the stairs, so quietly, so collected, calm, and cool.   
It wasn’t supposed to go like this… 

The Virginian opened his hand to see the little box.   
He wouldn’t admit it, but he’d spent hours and hours on it, making each and every carving by himself. And now Alexander would never know how hard he had worked. And that the carvings were of their adventures. 

Thomas’s heart was doing this strange thing where it panged with every beat as he turned it over, remembering each day he had carved. The lake… the porch in the rain… dancing in the dark. It was all there. All there. 

He quietly placed it back into his coat pocket and was still. He stayed still.  
After what felt like a thousand years, he stood, deciding it was time to go home. Time to go home. 

And... no.

Thomas stopped dead in his tracks, fingers on the cold knob as his breath caught in his throat.   
No.   
He would not go home. 

Thomas closed his eyes taking in the air and letting out, letting it go. And as soon as he opened them… there was FIRE within those brown irises. 

One hand yanking open the door, the other touched the bulge at his pocket where the box was resting. He strolled out of the cellar, confident, calm, determined. 

He wasn’t fucking going to give up the best thing that’s ever happened to him. Not like this. He would never go down like this. Alexander loved him, and he loved Alexander. To hell with the millions of reasons that the world had made up, to hell with the world. It was written in the stars and Thomas knew that. 

He was going to get the man that he loved.   
And to hell with anyone who tried to stop him.


	34. Heaven Falls Pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trying to get out of the Tavern in a flurry, Alexander literally runs right into John Laurens, who was heading there to frantically confess that he had told their friends about Alex's affair. Already on edge, Alexander and his friend get into a fight, and who should interrupt them besides the man who will never stand to see Alexander get hurt? Things are amended with John, but not Thomas, as the man thunders off into the woods on a late-night ride on his horse, desperately trying to clear his mind. It only takes a single moment for Thomas to be on the forest floor...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No stress! Not all chapters are going to be as dark as this one! 😭 Read on, much more to come! <3

Alexander strode quickly down the street, arms wrapped around himself, shoulders rounded against the chill as he buckled down and trudged forth. He had to distance himself from that, from this.

He quickly rubbed a silent tear off his face with the heel of his palm, denying its existence as he gritted his teeth in pained fury, plowing onwards. Everything was so perfect. The night was so perfect and Thomas had to go and screw it up, mess everything up that was in place. Why the fuck did he have to do this? 

He turned the corner away from the tavern, eager to get away from the place. The night was chilly as usual, September threatening playfully at the end of each passing day, a jealous reminder of her presence. As Alexander shuddered deeper into his coat, he wished that September would never come, he was cold and… maybe other reasons. But it didn’t matter now. It didn’t. Thomas had made sure of that.

The immigrant rounded the corner with speed and resentment, hunching his shoulders to keep out the cold and all the emotion desperately trying to burst out of him. And a good thing he was rounding his shoulders, too. For as soon as he turned the block, he slammed right into somebody with a ringing “smack!” 

"AUGH!" He roared with pain, their foreheads having collided, and stumbled back a few steps, groping for the side of the building to hold on to.   
“ShhhIT!” he hissed, hand over his head, squeezing his eyes shut as he saw sparks in his vision. The other man moaned in pain as well, but it took Alexander a few more seconds of outraged pain to open his eyes and yell at the bastard. 

“Watch the FUCK where you’re going!”   
There was a reluctant hesitation, some panting. Was this person even going to pipe up? Shit, maybe they'd start a fight; Alexander hoped they would. 

“Hams…?” The person spoke   
No. 

Alexander lowered his hand from his face, gingerly peeping out from behind it to see the other man doing exactly the same.  
John Laurens. No fucking way. 

He didn’t need this. Not tonight. He couldn’t. He had to get out of this fuckshow of an evening. Right. Now. 

“Sorry John,” he grumbled trying to breeze by him, but John sighed, snagging him by the sleeve.   
“Alex wait.” he tried to pull him back but Alex yanked his arm away, whirling around in irritation. 

“Hey bud, don’t take this the wrong way but I really can’t deal with you tonight.” Alex growled, straightening his sleeve, and moving to leave. John’s lip curled at the aggression; he recoiled, and rightfully so. 

“Wow, then. No offense taken.” he scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief at the insult.   
Alexander groaned, utterly frustrated. He wanted to scream. Nothing was happening right, nothing. He should just apologize, just tell his friend that he was sorry. But he was far too proud for that.

John shifted from one foot to the other, looking extremely uncomfortable. Alexander observed him, looking him up and down. It seemed as though John was searching for words, but Alexander didn’t care. He needed to get home and if John had something to say he wasn’t going to wait for it to develop, not today he wasn't.

“What do you want, man? Seriously, if you’ve got something to say to me just spit it out; I’m not in the mood to have a conversation right now.” he lifted his arms and let them flop down to his sides in exasperation, shaking his head. John only ran a hand through his hair. 

“I went to your house, man. You weren’t there.” he exhaled quickly, looking around anywhere but Alexander. Alex rolled his head back, not holding in anything. Tonight seemed like a night that he would be brutally honest, and no matter how shitty it felt he couldn’t stop himself.

“Fucking Christ, Laurens, you’re not my mother. Stop fucking monitoring where I am.” He scoffed, gesturing towards John with his hand.  
John’s brows swooped down in defense, ready to protect himself.

“Hey, I never said I was checking where you were going; you’re the one that just implied you were somewhere you shouldn’t have been.”   
“Who the hell are you to even say that to me?” Alexander spat, taking a few steps backwards with open arms. “Look, I’m going home if you’re just going to argue with me like a fucking two year old.” he rolled his eyes and shook his head, turning away from John to get the hell out of there.

“Wait, Alex.” John clipped, rounding in front of him and blocking his path. Alexander stopped short, irritated. They were in front of an alley near the tavern now. Thomas could still walk this direction and find Alexander, which made him even more urgent to get home.  
“What, man? What?” Alexander scoffed once more, exhausted and exasperated. He was ready for this night to be over; he just wanted to go home. 

“Dude… I…” John began, doing the same thing and running his hand through his hair, noting how impatient Alexander was. He had to get this out quickly. He exhaled.   
“I wanted to say I’m sorry I got all up in your personal life. I’m sorry.” 

“Gee thanks.” Alexander shoved his hands into his pockets, too stubborn to admit that John was just looking out for him.   
“I was just worried about you. I worry about you, Alex; you’re the closest friend I’ve got, I don’t have much else.” 

Alexander was silent, just looking at his feet like they were the most interesting thing in the world. He could apologize too. No, he SHOULD apologize too. For telling John that he was less than himself and pushing him away for taking care of him. But Alexander was silent. Maybe if he said nothing he could get out of this pity party 

John bit his lip, and for a moment he looked as if he was going to cry. He wouldn't cry, would he? But as he shuffled to the other foot looking up at the sky for a brief moment, Alexander realized that it was a much different emotion.

John looked guilty. 

The South Carolinian, looked back at Alexander, opening his mouth to say something and then looking away.   
“Alexander.” he spoke, face cringing at his own words. Alex was catching on to something now, and he began to feel his heart pump just a little harder, his gut feeling telling him that there was something wrong here. Something definitely wrong. 

“John....” Alexander said slowly leaning his head forward in anticipation, “What is it?” he prompted. The anxiety built even more in his chest as he watched John’s reaction. The man ran both hands through his hair, exhaling very shakily. 

“Alex, I-” John swallowed and looked up at the sky again. The immigrant's heart was thudding in a steady, nervous rhythm now. “I did something terrible, Alex. I was so angry and hurt about what you said; I did something terrible.” 

Alexander felt the panic rising in his chest rapidly. He took a step towards John, looking intimidating.   
“John…” he spoke again in the exact same tone as before, seizing the front of John’s collar to make him look in his eyes, “What did you do?” he asked very slowly.  
The South Carolinian’s pained, guilty, eyes looked almost pleading as his lips searched for words. 

“You have to understand, Hams, I was hurt; I wasn’t thinking straight.” He looked around, pleading with his gaze, “I was so… angry that you wouldn’t tell the guys and that you fucking missed my promotion party so I…” he squeezed his eyes shut, an outpouring of regret written all over him as he cringed at his own words.

“I told the guys, Alex. I told them.” John timidly, reluctantly looked back into Alexander's eyes. 

Oh God… He watched the immigrant slowly, so slowly, get more and more livid, fury building up in his eyes. His face screwed up as he breathed enraged breaths. 

“You…” he seethed, voice teeming with rage, “WHAT?” he positively roared into John’s face. His friend cringed.   
“I know, I know, God.” he breathed, looking so mortified, “Dude, you’ve gotta understand.” 

Alexander shook his head in complete outraged disbelief, “Alright, you know what.” Alex grumbled, pulling John into the alley with his iron grip. 

“Don’t fucking push me around, asshole.” John growled, still maintaining his spunk despite being in his position of vulnerability. Alexander completely ignored him, shoving him up against the grimy wall. The alley was mostly crowded with old barrels and some empty crates, the sound of their voices echoed through it and but didn’t carry out into the bustling New York City streets.

Alex panted.“Who did you tell.”   
“What?”

Alex shoved him into the wall a bit, jarring him in frustration.   
“I said who the fuck did you tell, goddamnit!” His urgent desperation was bubbling over very quickly. This only made John agrier too.   
“Get your hands off me.” He spat, and jerked his arms in a quick, aggressive motion to push Alexander off. Alex stumbled back a step and snarled, John brushed himself off, leering in disgust.

“John…” Alexander warned very darkly, panting. “Tell me. Who you told.” he breathed.   
“If I tell you will you back the fuck down?” John sneered. Alex only glowered.   
“No fucking promises.” he spoke dryly. 

There were a few intense moments of silence, the absolute tension almost tangible in the air. John didn’t move, Alexander’s fiery eyes burning into him. 

“Lafs, Herc.” he said, “...And Burr.” 

Two words and Alexander Hamilton’s heart literally stopped beating in his chest. He couldn’t breathe. He gasped for air. 

“Burr…” he sputtered out, taking a clumsy step towards John. It felt like his entire brain was glitching out. He couldn’t even begin to comprehend this… This night… anything. 

“Did you say BURR?!” Alexander roared, making a reach for John’s collar but the South Carolinian shoved his arms away, scowling.   
“Yeah. Burr.” he sneered, cocking his head, “Cause you know what, Hams, BURR showed up that night. The night when we were celebrating the biggest achievement of my life.” 

Alexander took no hesitation in shoving him back, MUCH harder.   
“Don’t you fucking dare.” he growled, voice slowly rising, “Don’t you fucking dare compare me to that bastard.” 

“What, Alexander? What do you have against Burr? What?” John opened his arms, shaking his head incredulously. After a moment, he dropped his arms in frustration.  
“Or would I ‘not understand’, Alex. Am I too lowly to comprehend a politician’s life.” he quoted Alexander from their first argument, mocking him brutally.  
“Would I ‘not know what it’s like’...” 

“Shut up! Just shut up!” Alexander barked, positively fuming. John only laughed at him.

“Every time you rose closer to the top, I was there. Not cause I felt like I had to, because I WANTED to, Alexander.” his face was completely straight as he spoke, “And where were you the one fucking time I ask for the smallest thing? Fucking somebody’s wife.” his eyes were void of emotion, “‘That bastard’ has been ten times the friend you are.”

That was it. Alexander’s rage boiled over, and with a guttural battle cry, he lunged forward to attack John. The short tempered little man had finally had enough; the night had tolled on his ability to reel himself in, and now he was finished trying to. 

With a burst of speed, he slammed into the wall with his friend, making it reverberate against them. John made an “oof” sound, but grappled feverishly for Alex’s shoulder, snagging the small man and whirling him around. He rounded on him and turned the tables, pinning him roughly against the wall now.

“Alex, I’m serious.” John strained through gritted teeth, trying to hold him in place, “Back down; I don’t want to fight you.” Alexander completely ignored his ample warning, snarling again and kneeing him in the groin. 

John roared in pain, quickly letting him go. Alex wiggled out of his grip, reeling back an arm to punch John in the side of the jaw, but the impact wasn’t too hard as he missed a bit in his clumsy, careless rage, tripping a bit over his own momentum. 

John, still hunched over in pain, took advantage of Alex’s off balance position to grab him by the waist, driving him into the wall on the other side of the alley. John didn’t want to fight him; he didn't. But the little man was not going to let up so easily. 

**

Thomas ploughed through the traffic of the tavern, ignoring the odd glance of that irritating little bartender as he broke through a group of people. They parted for him, giving him weird looks as well, but Thomas didn’t care. He had his mind already locked forward. He wasn’t about to let anything change it now. 

Pushing the creaky door open, the tinkling bell rung into the night as the cool air brushed his face, clearing his head a bit. It was definitely cold for August, he thought as he shoved his hands in his pockets, taking a right turn onto the ambling street. 

Where would Alexander have gone? A bit turned around, Thomas took a moment to remember where he was in the city. Right. They had come from Leonne. Alex’s house was in the direction he was heading, he decided with a curt nod, striding authoritatively down the narrow street.

He glided faster, knowing that Alex could’ve gone a good distance whilst he was in the cellar, but not too far with his little tater tot legs. 

But as he continued down the street, he was distracted by something. He cocked his head, curious to detect the noise. It was a muffled disturbance enveloped in the usual city sounds. Brows swooping in, he inched closer to a break between buildings, an alleyway and perked up his ears. Now that he was closer to whatever it was, it sounded like trouble.

“Back down; I don’t want to fight you.” One voice growled. The speaker was unknown to him, a man. 

Thomas curled his lip; it wasn’t his damn business if some filthy hoodlums were getting in a scrum about ladies of the night. Pathetic. He straightened himself up to continue; he had to find Alex. This part of the city was such a disgraceful stain, he thought in disgust. 

And that was when he heard the sound that made him stop dead in his tracks. He halted right before the alley, freezing. He didn’t take a breath as his ears strained and his stomach lurched. 

All he had heard was a snarl, but God knows that he knew this one. He knew it like he knew his own mind.  
Alexander…

Panic rising in his chest, Thomas didn’t wait another second before stepping around the corner, peering down the dim alley. His heart plummeted into his gut.   
A man had Alexander pinned to the side of a building, the little one writhing before kneeing him in the groin. Alex tried to step in to punch him, and the other man grabbed his waist, slamming him into the other wall.

Thomas couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe at the sight.   
A primal instinct tugged powerfully in his gut… It was SO fierce, so forceful. His lips screw up with rage as he moved forward without any hesitation. Without any second thought.

“Back down, Alex. Don’t make me hurt-”   
SMACK! 

With an impact so fierce that it made Alexander’s teeth rattle, some… thing just hurtled into them with the most primitive yowl he had ever heard. Alexander saw a flash of light as the thing’s --which he identified as a large person-- shoulder smacked into the side of his head, making him dizzy with how hard it hit. 

He had to be ready; he was in danger. Getting prepared to defend himself again, the immigrant raised his fists clumsily, vision a bit blurred. He’d never be able to fight against John and this strange newcomer, probably a filthy mugger, by himself. 

But as he blinked, desperately trying to focus his spinning head, his vague vision could tell what was going on. And his jaw dropped as his heart skipped a beat.   
Thomas…? 

The tall politician, still wearing his smart, expensive, high-end clothing, looked completely out of place as he careened into John, sending them both slamming into the wall. A crash sounded as a pile of crates tumbled down around the two scrabbling men, snarling and spitting. 

“DON’T TOUCH HIM! DON’T FUCKING TOUCH HIM!” Thomas screamed, his usually composed, calm voice cast to the wind as he roared in John’s face. The South Carolinian only went for Thomas’s hair, scratching at him with his nails but slipping on a slick slab of cobblestone. With a growl and a yelp, the two crashed to the ground, Thomas twisting expertly to land on top of John. 

Alexander could only watch in horror.   
“Thomas NO!” he shrieked, watching as the larger man pinned John down with his knees, raising a fist to punch him square in the jaw. His head snapped to the side, smacking on the ground with the most sickening noise. Thomas only seethed, panting with rage. 

“Never…! Touch…! Him…! Again…!” He spat every word viciously, dishing a blow with every single one. By the last punch, blood splattered the pavement with droplets of red.   
The horrid sight kick-started the petrified Alexander back into action. 

“Thomas! Stop it!” he practically screamed, lunging forward to stop Thomas in any way he could. He was going to fucking kill John if he didn’t stop him! Alex skidded to his knees, seizing Thomas’s raised arm and holding it with all of his strength, just trying to prevent him from bringing it crashing down on his best friend another time. 

“Thomas don’t.” he strained, holding Thomas back with all of his might. “He didn’t hurt me, I started the fight.” he scrambled for words that would calm him, make him understand quickly before he did anything terrible.   
“Look at me, Thomas. Look.” he panted, breathless. 

Thomas’s livid eyes were trained on John’s face, but at Alexander’s insistent pleading, they slowly turned to Alex. Oh... Thank God.  
“See, I’m fine. He didn’t hurt me. I’m fine.” he repeated, getting his point across quickly. 

Thomas scanned him with brown eyes, trying to hide the worry, anger, and… fear in them. He looked back to John, not wanting Alexander to see how protective he had gotten.   
“Thomas…” Alex spoke slowly, coaxing his counterpart, “Let him go.” 

“Who the fuck is he. Why was he attacking you.” Thomas commanded harshly, voice calmer than before but still edged sharply with aggression.   
“John Laurens, he’s my best friend.”   
“Answer the second question, asshole.”   
“He…” 

Alex’s mind raced. He had to decide what Thomas could and couldn’t know, but at this point it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter anymore when everything was falling apart. How the fucking hell did he even get here? How did he manage to get himself in this situation? His enemy and lost lover beating up his best friend over an affair with another woman. So fucking ruinous. He shook his head.

“He told my friends about the affair. The Reynolds affair.” Alexander whispered, clarifying.   
“You’re safe.” he mumbled bitterly, as if that was the thing that Thomas would care about. 

Thomas was still for a few moments, watching John Laurens’s vague expression as his lip and nose leaked tiny streams of blood onto the ground. John was silent, not daring to say a word.

Thomas suddenly snapped back into reality, jerking his arm roughly out of Alex’s grip. 

“Get off me.” he murmured, stiffly standing from John and brushing himself off in complete disgust. Disgust with himself, disgust with this stupid fucking alley.  
“Thomas…” Alexander tried to begin, still sitting on his knees below the Virginian. Thomas only peered down at him with emotionless, cold eyes.

“What. Alexander.” he spat dryly, shaking his head slowly, “What do you possibly have to say to me?”   
There was no response, nothing to say. He was right. 

The taller man scoffed when there was only silence from the speechless little immigrant.   
“That’s what I thought.” he brushed by Alex, slowly going back towards the street, not bothering to pick Alex up from the floor. 

Alex’s head turned to watch Thomas go. So many words fighting to explode out of him, but none of them made a sound. 

Thomas stopped.  
And for a moment, just a moment Alex’s heart fluttered. A little whisper of hope lighting itself in the darkness. A sliver. He turned around, his face now as it usually was. Completely calm. Completely in control. He spread his arms, opening them widely. 

“Congratulations.” he spoke cooly, “You’ve chosen your legacy.” His icy eyes stared into Alexander’s and he smiled.   
He actually smiled in amusement and shook his head in relish.  
“And you don’t even know that you’ve lost.” 

Alexander had no words, he couldn’t look away from those eyes. They flared up in passion and anger. 

“I hope that you burn, Hamilton.” he whispered, shaking his head slowly as he shoved his hands into his pockets. He gave him one last glance over his shoulder as he turned away,  
“I hope you fucking burn in hell.” He spat, rounding his shoulders against the chill and turning onto the street.

As Thomas Jefferson walked away, he blended in with the rest of the faces in the New York City traffic, disappearing into the night. Alexander watched Thomas slip right between his fingers. He had chosen his legacy. He had chosen his legacy over Thomas.   
And he was alone. 

**

John coughed, sputtering a bit as blood sprayed the table once again. Not as much as earlier, though. Alexander handed him the wet rag they had been using, pausing on his bandaging for a moment for John to wipe himself and the countertop down.   
“Good?”  
“Yeah.” John grunted, setting the rag down as Alex finished wrapping up his nose and stepped back a bit, exhaling slowly. He paused to take it in. 

“Well,” he huffed, trying to seem at least a little alright, “Let’s just say it covers your nose. All of it.” he shrugged. John sighed too, exhausted.   
“It’s huge, isn’t it.” he stated blandly.  
“Well, so is your nose.”   
“Yeah, that’s fair.”   
The two laughed quietly through their noses, both looking at some unidentified spot on the floor. Alex shifted uncomfortably in the silence. 

“Hams…” he started carefully, looking Alex in the eyes only for the other man to not return the favor. He continued anyway with a sigh,   
“You know I have to ask you about Thomas Jefferson, man.” he spoke. Alex only kept looking at the floor in silence, nodding and pursing his lips in understanding. 

“I know.” he spoke quietly in acceptance, “You deserve to know.” his gaze finally darted up to John’s, his friend looking at him sympathetically, patiently waiting for a response. 

It took some time for Alex to be able to say anything. And that was okay. He exhaled shakily, looking back up into those careful blue eyes. His best friend...   
Maybe he didn't want to lie anymore. 

And from there, he was pouring out everything. Starting at the very beginning with Maria and how Thomas had figured out the whole situation. He told him about their rules and the Compromise and their dinner tonight. How Thomas had told him he loved him. John didn’t stop him; he probably couldn’t if he tried. Everything was just coming out of him. It felt so relieving, to tell someone this huge secret that rested on his shoulders day and night. 

When Alexander finally finished, he went completely quiet, just nodding at the floor. He pulled out a chair at the dining room table and flopped back into it, completely exhausted and drained. Like the story had sucked the remaining life out of him for the night. The immigrant covered his eyes with his hands, leaning back. 

John only gazed at him, his best friend, considering him so carefully. Time passed by, and they stayed like this for a long time. The only sound in the quiet house was the clock in Alex's office, ticking with every second. Almost to remind him that when it came to his work, to his legacy, he was always running out of time.

Finally, John found it in himself to speak, he knew he had to.

“And are you happy?” he asked quietly. Alexander slowly pulled his hand down from his face, rubbing it over his features.   
“What?” He asked, voice smaller than he had intended. 

John just looked at him and repeated his question calmly, “You made your decision, man. Are you happy?” 

Alex took a moment to let the question sink in. He looked down quietly at his hands, lips moving as if to say something but no words came out as he gave up on the effort.  
A single silent tear slipping down his cheek was all the answer that was needed. 

**

Tarquin’s hooves thundered on the forest floor, deep thumps of his footfalls echoing through the trees and up into the moonless night. The horse snorted with every stride, nostrils flared for breath, but Thomas urged him onwards nevertheless. 

“Come on, Tarq.” Thomas tapped his heels rhythmically against the horse’s sides, making him surge forward even faster, powerful legs pumping in the dark forest. 

Thomas was caught a bit off guard as Tarquin leaped to clear a log he hadn’t even seen, but he stayed firmly to his back, only jostled a bit. They thundered on, not following any trail in the pitch night. The horse himself seemed to know that something was not right: his master coming to his stall at ten-o’-clock at night, hastily tacking him up, and flinging onto his back for an aimless gallop through the woods. But they galloped on nevertheless.

Sweat streamed down the dark steed’s sides as he snorted; Thomas only pushed faster. He didn’t know where he was going, but he wanted to block out his raging thoughts, block them out with wind in his hair and hooves pounding beneath him. Leaning flat and forward for speed, Thomas glanced over his left shoulder, noticing that they had were streaking alongside the lake, starlight reflecting off of the impossibly still surface.

He tried not to think of the last time he was there as he sternly turned his face away from it. He wouldn't.

And that was when it happened.

Without any warning whatsoever, no indication, no signal, Tarquin dug his hooves into the damp dirt, muscles bunching underneath him as he whinnied a high-pitched screech. The horse skidded to a teeth-rattling halt, turned and twisted its body, changing direction out of nowhere. 

Thomas yelped in surprise, desperately grappling for the horse’s neck as he careened forward, the momentum far too much for such an abrupt halt. But it was no use; it was just too sudden. Thomas was flung fiercely off the front of his horse. 

He spent a few terrifying, timeless moments flailing in the air. He felt completely weightless, like the world had frozen in that moment, heart thudding in utter terror. And then he hurtled to the ground, leg crashing against a serrated-edged rock by the lakeside as he thudded heavily to the forest floor.

“AUGH!” he roared, voice echoing off of the lake and coming right back to him. A fiery pain spread up his leg, but his head had hit the ground too hard too. The Virginian faintly heard the thundering of Tarquin’s hooves as he took off fleeing into the night. 

Mouth wide open in shock, Thomas breathed. This wasn’t supposed to happen to him.   
He was going to black out. 

“Hngh!”   
He rolled over in pain, voice cracking pitifully as the agony in his leg shot up all the way through his body. He could feel the warm dampness of blood. As his head turned, he caught one glimpse of the harmless, common Black Snake that had spooked Tarquin slithering off into the grass… 

And then he fainted off.


	35. Helpless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a sleepless night Alexander realizes just how wrong this is. Finally he understands that he can't let Thomas go, and before he can change his mind, leaps out of bed to Thomas's house. On finding a distressed Tarquin wandering around, a terrified Alexander puts aside his fear and mounts the steed, charging into the woods to find Thomas. He succeeds, struggling to carry Thomas to aid, and then is ushered out. Alex comes back every day for three days trying to see Thomas, but is turned away. And now... on the fourth day he comes into the Jefferson manor to see the man he loves. 
> 
> Will he be able to say it? Will Thomas forgive him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! I broke my foot this week which was a bit of a setback, but I'm so happy to be back to writing! Get ready for a long one on this lovely birthday of Alexander Hamilton! (January 11, 1755 or 1757) 😊

Alexander didn’t sleep for the entire night. He tossed and turned, mind never resting as he thought. The quiet patch of moonlight crept agonizingly slowly across his bedroom floor, as if to mock him. Morning is never coming; this night will last forever. 

No matter where he drove his thoughts, they would always find their way, crawling, right back to Thomas. What was he doing right now? Was he awake? Was he thinking of Alexander? 

Alexander sighed because… he knew it. He knew he wouldn’t be thinking those thoughts if he truly didn’t want to be with Thomas. And when John had asked him, asked him in his most vulnerable position, if he was happy, he had no answer. He had no words. 

And the silence spoke more than anything else.

Alex turned over one more time, facing the window. Thomas’s empty spot in his bed felt so incredibly wrong. It didn’t feel real as he slowly, weakly ran his hand over the cold sheets.  
Alexander whimpered, closing his eyes, and willed himself to pretend. Pretend that Thomas has just run downstairs for a glass of water and he’d be back in a moment. He’d set it down all quiet, thinking Alex was asleep, and then Alex would turn to him, blinking happily as his partner. Thomas would wordlessly pull him into his arms, breathing in his hair and mumbling those words as they shuffled closer, nodding heads into each other as they got comfortable. 

It was so vivid in his mind. So strikingly lifelike that he could literally see it. He could FEEL the emptiness where Thomas should be. He squeezed his eyes shut, hard. And the agony built up slowly in his chest, gradually, incrementally until it was unbearable. He gritted his teeth, hard, and finally sat up in his bed, panting. 

He sat. The night was so quiet. He could hear the hushed, sleepy street below.

What was he doing? Alexander looked at his hands, breathing. 

Why was he doing this to himself? Why? As he slowly ran a hand through his hair, everything became clear to him. 

This was wrong.

The immigrant ripped aside the covers, swinging himself out in a haste. He didn’t even bother to change from his ordinary clothes, just swept by his dresser, snagging the overcoat off the door as he whirled past. 

There had to be a way. A way to protect his legacy and his love at the same time. If there was a way, he’d fucking find it, and he was going to do it now.   
How could he have been so goddamn stupid? 

He shook his head at himself, thudding down the stairs too quickly to not be haphazardous, trying to tie his overcoat messily as he did so. When he’d reached the bottom of the staircase, he only hesitated to wedge on his shoes, tipping over once, before flinging open the door and walking down towards the street. If he took his time he’d find a way to talk himself out of this one; there was no changing his mind now. 

Alex hailed a cab after a few moments, the first one he saw. It was shabby, that was for sure, but it didn’t matter to him; at this moment, a cab was a cab.   
“Jefferson manor. Please.” he panted breathlessly to the cab driver. The driver looked lazily over his shoulder.   
“Mm.” he grunted, lurching the carriage into motion. 

The immigrant flopped back into the seat.

The entire ride, Alexander willed it to go faster, but of course he really had no say in it. Dark silhouettes of trees stuck out against the dim sky, hinting at dawn towards the east with a rosy tint. It had to be around six o'clock in the morning; birds weren’t chirping, and the crickets were scarce, heading back to sleep as well. The wheels rolled along the dirt and cobblestone roads, every mile an eternity. 

Finally they turned onto that familiar, long lane. The towering oaks and fine-trimmed shrubbery. Alexander could wait no longer; he was bursting.

“I’ll walk from here. Thanks.” Alex clipped, shoving the money into the drivers hand as the man sputtered, surprised. However, the immigrant didn’t wait for more of a reaction, he hopped down onto the gravel, feet slipping, and took off in a full sprint up towards the house. 

The sun hadn’t risen yet. It was just a cool, surreal place between night and day, where faded stars painted the sky above him as he ran. Wind whipped his long, dark hair as the gravel grinded and crunched, echoing in the morning silence. 

Alexander cleared the steps in two large strides, heaving for breath. And as he finally skidded to a stop at the doorstep, he smiled, grin overtaking his entire being as he placed his hands on his knees, knocking confidently on the door. He could imagine it now as his hear hammered in his chest, gasping for air.

Thomas would open it and he’d leap into his arms, making him stumble backwards, but the Virginian wouldn’t have time to scold or complain. Alexander would kiss him all over, “I love you, I love you, I love you, stupid Thomas fucking Jefferson.” And he’d say it some more just to hear himself say it. 

But as he stood, panting, letting this all play out in his head, there was no answer to the door. Not even the vibration of approaching footsteps inside the house. His face fell with concern. Not giving it another moment, Alex backed up, brows knitted skeptically. Looking up at the towering manor, he realized that there were no candles at all. No fireplaces casting light out of windows.The house was completely dark. 

“What the…?” He breathed, backing down the steps to take it in. Yep, the place was vacant. The little man’s heart began to gradually pick up with anxiety. Brows still knitted, glancing over his shoulder several times, he nervously began to walk around the back of the house, a route he knew well at this point. 

He followed the narrow footpath until the gardens, back porch, and stables came into sight, the usual landscape of the Jefferson household. Alex swiveled his head around, scouring the place for any sign of Thomas. The porches were empty, the porch swing swaying gently, almost eerily in the morning silence. Alexander gulped and knew. 

Something was wrong. 

“Thomas?” He called in a normal tone, turning and trudging towards the stables. They were closer to him than the porch was; he would check. 

Hauling the heavy door stable door with a grunt, it screeched open and Alexander stood in the barn door as silence fell. It was dim for the early morning. He stood, alert for any sound.

His ears perked up when he heard a soft little whine.

“Hello?” He called nervously. There was no response but a draft of wind curling around his ankles from the other direction. Head shooting up, he realized that the door on the other side of the barn was wide open, letting in the smell of earthy grass.   
“The fuck…” 

And then there was a clopping sound, like hooves on the floor. Alex’s heart leaped into his throat, God, he hated horses. But when one walked, free of any stall, into the corridor of the stables, he cocked his head. 

“Tarquin?” he spoke, jaw dropping. 

The beautiful black steed was standing timidly by the door, pawing and scraping at the ground with a front hoof. His reins were trailing on the ground in front of him, caked in mud. Alexander swallowed and took a deep breath. 

Going against every screaming instinct in his body, he moved forward. 

“Hey buddy, h- woah.” he spoke, trying to sound as calm as possible as he inched towards the nervous, jittery horse, hands out in front of him in caution. It looked spooked as it looked down on Alexander, whites of its eyes rolling while it tossed its head once, ears laying flat on the back of its head. 

Tarquin whinnied and Alexander flinched, stopping.   
“It’s okay, it’s okay.” He spoke soothingly, voice shaking a bit. To be honest he was trying to convince himself more than the horse, but when he reached him and extended a hand gingerly, Tarquin appeared to relax a little. Alexander puffed out a relieved sigh.

“Buddy, where’s Thomas?” He spoke, knowing full well that he sounded like a maniac. His heart was thudding in his chest, adrenaline already pumping through him like an icy river. 

He already knew the answer to his question.

Hands numb, he trailed down the reins, absentmindedly finding the ends. 

All of the signs pointed to one terrifying conclusion. The stable empty, the horse tacked and terrified, the house dark and vacant…   
Thomas was in trouble.

Alexander cast a glance out the open end of the stable, where the dusky woods loomed, mist hovering sleepily between the wet bark. He was somewhere out there. 

Alexander turned back to the horse, closing his eyes for one deafeningly still moment, letting the fear invest itself in him, rising in his chest like a tidal wave. He was so afraid for once in his life. The immigrant opened his eyes, exhaling ever so slowly.

“Alright, Tarq.” he spoke unsteadily, running his hands up to the top of his powerful neck. Alexander held his breath and lifted a leg high to set in the stirrup, hopping up clumsily and swinging his other leg up and over the back of the dark stallion. 

He paused for a moment, never feeling more unnatural and uncomfortable in his life as he gathered the reins in his hands, shifting himself into a saddle designed for a man far bigger than him. But it didn’t matter now as he stared back out at the forest with fearful, blazing eyes. He let go his breath. 

“Take me to him, Tarquin.” 

**

Alex laid flat on the back of Thomas’s horse, gripping impossibly tightly with his knees as he slid in the saddle. Tarquin knew this wasn’t his master upon his back; the rider was small and unaccustomed to a horse’s movements, but he streaked on nevertheless.

They thundered through the forest, hooves pounding the ground in a frantic pattern like torrential rain on a shed’s roof. 

Alexander buckled down tighter, eyes scanning between the trees, scouring them rigorously for any possible sign of Thomas. He saw nothing.   
“Come on Tarq, come on.” he urged the horse faster, turning onto the only path out there that he knew, the one that led to the lake.

Regathering the reins, he steered Tarquin closer along the bank, looking out over the gray waters. Nothing. 

“Wh- Hey!” Alex jerked forward a bit, gathering the dark, coarse mane in his hands to hold himself up as the stallion trotted to a walk and then to a dead stop, refusing to move. The only sound was their panting and the twittering of birds beginning to awake. For a few seconds, the wind-swept man just sat there on the still, heaving horse, unsure of what to do. 

“Uhh… hello?” Alex tapped his heels lightly. Tarquin didn’t move, only chewed on the bit some and snorted. He shook his head in annoyance. 

“Come on stupid animal.” Alex lambasted frustratedly, kicking his heels sharply into his powerful sides. He STILL didn’t move, only tossed his head aggressively, yanking the reins from Alex’s hands and pawing at the ground. 

It took a couple irritable moments of exasperation for Alexander to realize that the horse was trying to tell him something. 

“What? What?” he growled in frustration, fully aware that it couldn’t answer back, but as he scanned the landscape he knew why the intelligent beast had stopped. Heart plummeting into stomach icily; Alexander slid down the side of the horse, dismounting in a clumsy manner, eyes trained on one spot on the ground. 

He kneeled down a few steps in front of them, gliding his fingers over the tracks in the dirt. They were deep gouges, Tarquin’s. Hooves that had dug into the ground fiercely to a violent halt. 

Shit…   
He tried not to let the panic bubble over. Stay calm, stay calm, stay calm.

Knowing where the momentum would throw something... or someone, Alexander’s breath sped up, his heartbeat thudding out of his chest. With one last glance over his shoulder at the intelligent-eyed creature, he gulped and stepped slowly around the sharp boulder in front of him. 

The first thing he saw was a leather boot. And then another. And then he saw the pale face and dark hair.  
And then the blood. 

His vision clouded up into one narrow line of sight as he heart his heart pound, heard the blood roaring in his ears.   
No...  
“Thomas!” his voice cracked, the most tortured sound erupting from his chest as he impulsively surged forward, falling painfully to his knees beside the tall man on the rocky soil. This couldn’t be happening.

“Thomas, Thomas, hey wake up.” he gasped and gulped for air, frantically rolling him over so that he laid flat on his back, face up now. His eyes were closed. 

“Thomas. Come on. Oh shit…” he climbed close to his partner, trying to decide what to do. His fingers fumbled open the Virginian’s coat and reached inside, searching the pockets.  
“Come on, come on, come one.” he mumbled feverishly, absolutely panicking. He groped around, finally finding something hard and pulling it out. Thank God Thomas wasn’t a complete idiot.

“Okay, alright.... Fuck...” Alexander continued to breathe to himself, leaning over with the tiny pocket-knife in his grip embedded with the initials “TJ”, and proceeded to cut the fabric around Thomas’s left leg, ripping away the bloody pieces frantically. 

When he was finished, his eyes widened at the sight of the wound, a jagged gash right up his thigh that was a nasty mess of dried blood and fresh too.   
“Ohhhh Jesus…” Alexander gasped, running a shaky hand through his hair as he evaluated. He wasn’t stupid. He had fought in a bloody war, and this was no unfamiliar event to the past soldier, but this wasn’t a batallion. This was Thomas. Oh God, please not Thomas.

The little man scrambled to his feet, slipping on the soil and running to the lake, heaving for breath. He cupped some water carefully in his hands and strode back to Thomas, his mind roaring with panic. He let the ice-cold water stream over his face as he pulled Thomas’s head into his lap and awaited any affect, any whatsoever. His full lips still had color, a good sign. 

“Come on, Thomas, Come on…” Alexander gulped for air, brushing Thomas's hair out of his face desperately, rocking him “Come on…” 

There was a pause. And then Thomas choked once. Then twice. 

“Yes! Yes! That’s it.” Alex cried in pure joyful relief, pulling him closer and lifting his head up more. The man’s eyes only fluttered, not focusing on anything in particular as they scanned around aimlessly and fell shut again. He hacked a cough. 

“You’re fine, you’re fine.” Alex spoke once again, convincing himself of that truth as he brushed more hair out of Thomas’s eyes. He half-opened them again. 

“Alexander…?” the name died weakly on his tongue as his head fell back, going limp in Alex’s arms. Thomas’s lost consciousness once again.

“Wh-” Alexander pulled him closer, shaking him a bit, “No.” he gulped, jerking Thomas in his arms, “No, come on Thomas, stay with me here!” But there was no response; he was out cold. 

“Shit.” Alex spat, wiping his mouth messily and moving to stand, pulling Thomas with him. He had to get going, get help. He’d never be able to hoist Thomas onto Tarquin. Alexander grunted and gritted his teeth, trying his best to haul Thomas over his shoulders but the man was so tall and Alex was so small. If it weren’t for the pure power adrenaline it never would’ve happened. 

“Hng! Fuck…” Alex panted, staggering off in the Western direction. He’d never get back to the Jefferson manor in time. He’d have to find a neighboring one before his legs gave out.  
He put his head down and trudged along, ploughing through the woods at the fastest speed he could. Jaw clenched, holding onto Thomas with every ounce of strength he contained, he lumbered on, gaining ground. 

He didn’t even know how much time passed before he finally caught sight of the white wall of a towering manor between the trees. Oh God… he had made it. By now, angry, terrified tears were streaming down his face. 

“HELP!” He wailed, hoping his high voice would carry, that someone would hear his plea for assistance. 

That was when his knees, far too exhausted now, gave our and buckled beneath him. He came crashing down to the forest floor like a pile of bricks, completely falling apart. 

Thomas tumbled down on top of him, landing on his side next to Alex in a crumpled heap.   
“Help!” Alexander sobbed, moving towards Thomas and pulling him close, holding his head against his chest and wrapping the other arm tightly around his back. He choked and gasped for air in pure exhaustion, drained of all energy. 

“Thomas…” He whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut and forcing the Virginian closer into his embrace. He could feel him breathing against his body, and that was enough. All Alexander could do now was listen. And wait.

He heard the slam of a door being flung open somewhere, and it wasn’t long before a woman’s voice was shrieking for a man named William to come outside, quickly! Alex heard Thomas groan softly against him, and held him closer.

“Shit. It’s okay, it’s okay.” he mumbled into Thomas’s hair, unsure if he could hear him or not.   
“I love you…” Alexander muttered. Thomas may have heard it, he may have not. It wasn’t really important at this point. 

Soon, men were crashing through the forest, directed by the woman who had called until they found the two laying together. Alexander sat up on his knees, protectively close to Thomas. 

The men were dressed in nightclothes still, the sun was just peeking over the horizon now, sky rozy and pink.   
“Are you alright, sir?”   
“What’s happened here?”   
“What’s your name?” The questions all hit him at the same time as he shook his head frantically. 

“Alexander Hamilton.” They exchanged glances in surprise but Alex ignored them, he wasn’t what was important, “Thomas Jefferson, he’s hurt. Thrown by his horse; I found him in the woods, leg. Hurt.” he sputtered, unable to convey all his thoughts as the men nodded, carefully squatting to lift Thomas, his head falling back, mouth open. 

“His head.” Alex spoke firmly, fire returning, “Hold his head, goddamnit, it could be hurt.” he wiped his wet face with the heel of his palm frustratedly, following the men closely as they entered the plush house. 

The woman had prepared a couch that they gently laid Thomas on, and a young man was already composing a quick doctor’s letter at a small desk in the corner. Everything was so hushed and rushed. He felt like he was in another world as he stood there, covered in mud, some scrapes on his face and clothing, unable to do anything. He was helpless.

He only got one last glance at Thomas’s unconscious face as he was ushered away into the tea room, two young girls trying to feed him some angel cake, but he couldn’t think of anything but Thomas. Thomas was hurt. Thomas had went riding last night and been a fucking idiot. He was such a fucking idiot and it was all because of him. Thomas wouldn’t have done that if Alex hadn’t been a conceited douchebag in the first place. 

Fuck, he had to get out of there.  
He excused himself carefully, thanking the girls and then the people in the parlor helping Thomas. They said a quick goodbye, occupied, and Alexander slipped out. He had to get out of there. Take Tarquin back to Jefferson’s. Just… get out. 

And so with one last glance at the unconscious, injured man, the man he loved, Alexander Hamilton slipped out the door in a quiet, unnoticed manner.

**

Three days passed in the completely usual style. Alexander got up from bed, got dressed. He gathered his papers and went to work at his Treasury office, doing his meetings. He put the Reynolds letter back in its locked little drawer at his desk where it was supposed to be.

He also had a meeting with Washington every day, discussing with him the logistics and detailed benefits of their compromise and having the Capital in Virginia. And Washington, though not as surprised as Alex expected, accepted the offer, working with him to undertake some basic plans to present at the next Cabinet meeting soon. One that Thomas would hopefully be able to attend. 

Alex tried not to mention the night that he was out to dinner with Thomas. How would he be able to explain that to the President? But why was Washington going out with Madison? What business did those two have with each other? It was impossible to say at this point, and if he asked George, George would know that Alex was there as well. So oddly enough, they both avoided the subject.

Every day after work, Alexander would make sure everything was in order in his office and walk back to his house through the busy streets, City life going on around him. He’d arrive home, greet the handmaid if she was there, and then head upstairs.  
The immigrant brushed his hair back neatly, no matter how much he despised the chore, and freshened himself up, taking a deep breath in the mirror and smiling before heading right back out. 

Every day, at the exact same time, he was on the Jefferson doorstep, proud head high and waiting to come in. And every day, he was turned away. That was MAYBE owing to the fact that he had cursed out Thomas’s cousin when he’d told Alex that Thomas needed to rest, but Alexander would prefer to think that ALL the Jeffersons were just assholes. 

And now, on the fourth day, he hopped up the wide stairs to the columned front of the house, warm sunlight brushing his face and illuminating his hair as it was on its way to set. The trees swayed calmly in the gentle breeze. 

Alex stood impatiently after he had knocked, shifting from foot to foot as he kicked at the ground, mumbling annoyedly at how inconsiderate the family was, the whole lot of em. It didn’t take too long for someone to carefully crack open the door, and then pulling it open fully. 

Alexander’s heart took an unexpected swoop in his chest, making him sputter a bit and swallow. No. Way.

The short woman in front of him was small in stature, but the opposite in manner. She stood, chin in the air, blonde hair pulled back away from her sharp blue eyes and deep-red lips.  
Martha Jefferson, he knew as soon as he saw her. He’d never met her but he knew. Martha Jefferson was back. 

She looked him up and down, an almost inconvenienced look in her eyes.   
“Can I… help you, Mr. Hamilton?” She prompted, witty gaze still scanning him. Alexander coughed slightly. She had some tongue on her, a lot like Angelica. This was so weird, so fucking out of place.

“Secretary.” he spoke carefully, meeting the challenge; she only smiled stiffly in this perfect way that precisely mocked him and complied at the exact same time. She didn’t answer, only stood resolutely in the doorway. 

Alexander took a step closer, growing impatient already.   
“Well I’m here to see Secretary Jefferson, so it’d be great if you could make that happen.” he sniffed, shrugging his shoulders entitledly. She only looked him up and down again like he was a stray cat that’d dragged up something dead onto the porch. 

“I’m afraid he can’t be bothered with your politics at the moment, ‘Mr. Secretary’.” she raised her chin. Was it possible to HEAR air-quotes? 

Alex leaned against a pillar, gesturing at the small woman. He was getting fed up, quick, and he wasn’t known for being particularly polite. Ever.   
“Look, if I swear to not say a word about politics would you let me the fuck in for…. Ten minutes.” 

She squinted her eyes narrowly at him. Alexander was gaining more and more dislike for this stubborn girl. She was, apparently, completely unfazed by his cursing, and there was a short pause where they just stood each other off. 

“Five.” She spoke shortly, opening the door just wide enough so he could get through. She didn’t even move out of the frame, just held her place. Fucking insufferable and he’d just met her.   
“Five?” Alex scoffed, shaking his head incredulously. 

“He’s in our bedroom.” She nodded curtly, turning rigidly on a heel and walking into the house, not even addressing Alexander’s disdain. Alex sputtered in outrage as he followed her into the familiar manor, turning behind the well-postured little woman towards the bedroom. The bedroom that she had referred to as “our”, sending a shot of anger up through Alexander’s gut. 

He shook it off as they glided through the wide open door, the door he’d been through many times, the one that usually hid the two enemies. 

People were milling about, whispering in hushed voices as they spoke to one another. Some doctors in long coats were around the bed, blocking the scene, and two men chatted whilst another wrote a letter quietly in the corner. 

Martha cleared her throat, making the hushed voices drop to silence, heads turning to look at her. 

“Thomas, dear.” She spoke clearly, stiffly, “You have a visitor.” All that could be heard was a pause. Then a deep, exasperated sigh. 

“Tell them to kindly fuck off.” He drawled dryly.   
Alexander shifted from one foot to the other, coughing slightly. 

“Thomas…” He spoke, grimacing at his words, “It’s me.” 

The pause that followed was agonizing. A very tense hesitation as Thomas realized who it was, breath catching in his throat silently. Alexander had come to see him. Why was he here? 

He kept his voice even and cool, “Leave us.” he twanged, earning a curious look from Martha but she only looked away from him and strode out, nose in the air followed by the doctors, shuffling out quietly. The doctors looked at each other, confused as they filed out and then were gone.

When the door clicked shut, it was completely silent. Just Thomas and Alexander standing in the familiar, noiseless room, a patch of sunlight on the wooden floor 

Alex didn’t second guess himself this time, just stepped carefully towards Thomas’s bedside to catch his first look at the Virginian. He swallowed a gasp as he halted, close to Thomas.

It wasn’t pretty. Alexander exhaled very slowly.   
“Shit….” 

Thomas softly laughed, “Nice, isn’t it?” he chuckled morbidly, “That’s gonna leave a mark.”   
Alexander only shook his head, trying not to let his eyes fill with tears as he stared. Thomas’s leg was propped up on pillows, the gash scabbed in some places, open in others. Thomas himself looked exhausted, eyes red like he hadn’t been sleeping. Thomas stiffly reached down, grimacing in pain as he wrapped the bandage closed.

Alexander gulped down his utter shock, “How do you feel?” he looked back to Thomas’s brown eyes; they locked on Alex’s.  
“Like how I look.” he drawled.   
“So like complete shit?”   
“Something like that, yeah.” Thomas spoke.

They were quiet for a few more seconds as Thomas shifted himself, trying to sit up in bed and look at Alex. The little man was still staring at his leg, face white. Thomas knew what Alex was thinking.

“Is it…?”  
“Infected?” Thomas finished his sentence, crossing his arms, “No.”   
Alexander paused, looking for words. 

“Then why isn’t it… you know… healing?”   
“Well that’s the fucking question of the week, now isn’t it?” Thomas scoffed morbidly, letting his head fall back against the pillows.

Alexander looked at him in silence as the Virginian closed his eyes. The only sound was the wind outside in the trees. Alexander looked around and then back to Thomas.   
“You’re a fucking idiot, you know.” Alexander sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed. He would stay in here for more than five minutes, fuck what that stubborn girl had said. “A real genius.” 

Thomas’s eyes snapped open in aggression; his head whipped around to scowl at Alex.  
“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. I said you’re a real fucking moron.” Alex looked down at Thomas with a straight face.   
“Why the hell would you go out riding in the middle of the damn night on a black horse through the woods?” 

“Sounds like some shit you would do, Hamilton.”   
“Exactly my point.” Alex breathed, laughing a bit, “So why did you do it?” 

Thomas didn’t respond right away. He wasn’t going to give up his answer so easily; Alexander already knew, but he’d be an asshole just to hear Thomas say it himself. 

“And why did you come back?” 

Checkmate.   
The man was too good. 

Alexander laughed lightly through his nose, looking at Thomas who was raising a dark eyebrow challengingly like he always did. 

“Touche.” Alex nodded, frowning in consideration at the question, licking his lips. Thomas only smirked at him for a moment and then let his face fall, remembering that he should be resenting Alexander right now.

“You gonna answer the question?” Alex spoke rudely.  
“Are you?” Thomas shot right back. Alexander only squinted at him and hummed in false content, used to his stubborn reticence. 

“Lovely wife you have. Sure you’re not twins?” Alex poked the snarky question at the Virginian, still smiling tightly. Thomas blinked slowly, immensely unimpressed.  
“Going for wife jokes now, Alexander?” Thomas nodded lazily, “How mature of you.” 

“Well, not known for being so.”   
“You have that right, Hamilton.” The two looked at each other and then quickly off to the sides. 

After a moment, Alexander’s eyes landed on the small table near the bedside as they sat in silence. Thomas inched his gaze back to Alexander, watching carefully as the little immigrant caught sight of the box that lay there. At this point, he didn’t care if Alexander saw it. It wasn’t Thomas that had anything to hide anymore. 

He watched his partner pause… and then reach out and gingerly touch the smooth wooden top with his fingertips, running them hesitantly along the edges. The immigrant's smart brown eyes glided over it from a couple feet away. Thomas blinked. 

“You can hold it, you know. It doesn’t fucking bite.” Alex picked it up like he was already planning to do so. The proud little prick.   
“I know.” he snapped defensively, shooting smug Thomas a look before continuing to observe the box like it was too fragile to be held. 

Thomas just watched him.   
“You’re holding your breath.” he stated blandly.   
“No I’m not.” 

Thomas rolled his eyes, “Alexander Hamilton, you think I don’t know when you’re holding your breath?”   
“Shut up, I’m not.” He retorted, laughing, “And who’s the one with the immature jokes now, huh?” 

“That was not dirty, Alexander. You made it dirty.”   
“Screw you.”   
“Likewise.”   
“Asshole.”  
“Go fuck yourself.” 

Alexander smiled stupidly as he turned the box over in his hands. God, he missed this, all of this. The incessant nagging and non stop bickering. The banter that had become so natural between the two, it felt like they had been going like this forever. 

“So you make this or not?” Alex poked his tongue at the inside of his cheek, talking rudely around it.   
“Don’t talk with your mouth full.” Thomas scolded with disdain.   
“Did you?”   
“Yes. Alexander. I made it. Stop doing that with your tongue.” 

Alexander nodded slowly, regarding it once more. He squinted carefully.   
“And… what are the carvings.” 

Oh…

Thomas’s heart lurched when he realized the little man hadn’t looked close enough to discover what the carvings were of. Shit…  
Well he couldn’t tell him now. Not after everything. Not after three days ago and how it all went down. Panicking a bit, floundering for words, he managed a calm face nevertheless.

“I doubt that you want to know that, Alexander.” he spoke extremely stiffly, voice as even as ever. Alexander didn’t lift his head, just gave him a weird sideways glance. 

“Well what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” he scoffed, putting the box close to his face and squinting, his warm eyes darting back and forth over the engravings. Thomas watched his reaction carefully, his eyes slowly widening in understanding. 

“Oh.” Alexander breathed quietly, nodding and biting his lip as he swallowed a bit.   
Thomas just watched him.   
“That’s…” Alex set it gently down on the table once more, hesitating awkwardly. 

Thomas only let out a slow, exhausted sigh, “You don’t have to say anything, Alexander.” he stated blandly, looking up at the ceiling as he let his head rest back on the pillows a bit.   
“Seriously, you don’t have to do all this shit cause you feel like you have to. We can just agree to forget this. I don’t need your apology.” He shrugged. 

Alex shook his head, faster now, eyes welling up with emotion. It all seemed to hit the man at the same time, coming down on him like an icy avalanche of snow. This was where he had to say something. This was his only chance to do it.

In that moment, Alexander didn’t care if Martha busted down the door, if Washington strolled in for some tea, if the goddamn King of England decided to pay a visit. Alexander Hamilton knew what he was going to do but not the slightest fucking idea how to do it. 

“No. No.” Alexander clipped, shifting himself on the bed, twisting so that he was fully facing Thomas. The Virginian, squinted, confused at this reaction. His eyes were welling up, his cheeks getting pink with emotion. 

“I DO have to say something. Shit, I have to say a lot more than something.” Alex rambled, voice constricting a bit as he choked down his voice.  
“Alexander…”   
“No. Thomas. Shut up, I have a fuckton of shit to say and not enough time to say it.” 

For once Thomas didn’t jump on Alexander for saying that to him; he just looked at him, taking in this moment before it was over. Alexander looked up at the ceiling in the “I’m trying not to cry, don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry” kind of way, anger and frustration painted on his face. 

Thomas only gently, patiently coaxed Alexander’s hand into his, giving him the time he needed. The little one just kept shaking his head.   
“Shit…” He breathed, still trying not to cry. After a moment of breathing deeply, he could continue in a shaky manner. 

“You want to know why I came out in the woods at-- what’d it have to be?-- four in the fucking morning to ride a goddamn horse. A horse. I actually got on that THING, in case you didn’t know.”  
“So I’ve heard.” Thomas remarked. Alex continued anyway. 

“Because..." He gulped shakily, "I literally COULD NOT sleep the night before. I kept waking up, and waking up and feeling like I was in--I don’t know-- uh, Ethiopia or some shit.”   
“Ethiopia.” Thomas drawled; Alex ignored him. 

“I kept reaching over and thinking, like.” He looked at the ceiling again, willing himself not to cry, but at this point it was inevitable, he swallowed, taking a shaky breath,

“This is Thomas’s spot, like, this is where Thomas should be.” 

And that was when Thomas realized what this was going to be.   
He felt his own heart stir, hopefully, pleadingly. Beating in his chest for the first time in three long days. This wasn’t going to be just a big apology or excuse.

He... was going to say it. 

“I got here and the damn house was dark and I got… scared.” he shook his head, “No, that’s not a good word. Fuck.”   
Thomas just squeezed his hand, willing him to go on, and Alexander exhaled very slowly, taking a minute to be able to settle down once again. Thomas waited patiently. He’d waited this long. He could sit with Alexander a minute more. 

Time passed as Alexander just breathed. It was peaceful in there. The only sound was the trees swaying in the summer breeze, the patch of light on the wooden floor flickering because of it. 

Alexander opened his eyes and looked at Thomas, the first tear spilled out over his overflowing eyes, rolling down his cheek and falling onto Thomas’s hand. Alexander laughed, smiling as he let a sob break out. 

“I actually don’t know how to say something for once.” He laughed, nodding in disbelief as another tear slipped out.   
Thomas only let a smile flickered across his face, reassuring Alex. The immigrant looked into those eyes… those eyes. And gulped. It was all coming on him at once. He was completely in love with Thomas Jefferson. And in this moment, he finally understood what Thomas had been trying to say. He understood.  
He didn't care how imperfect things were. The world could come down around him and the only thing that would matter would be... Thomas.

He DID know how to say it. Because Thomas had already said it for him. 

“I want to run to the lake with you, goddamnit.” He laughed quietly, meeting Thomas’s gaze. The Virginian’s eyes flashed with some unnamable emotion.   
He understood. 

Alexander was using his words. 

“I want to…” he looked down at the floor, swallowing, and then back up to Thomas, “I want to dance with you even though I suck.” he laughed a bit as he sniffled messily. And Thomas laughed too. After a moment, they both looked at each other again. 

This was Alexander’s moment. 

The little man’s heart beat breathlessly in his chest.   
“I want to read your dumb poetry and run through the rain like fucking idiots. I want you to be the first thing I see in the morning and the last thing I see at night.” He shook his head slowly, speaking so quietly. This was it. 

The next words were so quiet that Thomas could barely hear them. But he didn’t even need to hear them to know what Alexander was saying. Just his face was enough.

“Because I love you, Thomas.” 

And there it was.   
Thomas couldn’t even think now. He didn’t want to. The Virginian was already leaning in towards Alexander, a helpless smile spreading across his face. 

“Say it again, Alexander.” he breathed, eyes darting all over Alex’s face, running a hand repeatedly through the immigrant’s dark hair, messing it up as if he was trying to make sure the man was real, that this was actually happening, his heart drummed in his chest.

Alex smiled bashfully at his feet.   
“Now you’re just rubbing it in.” 

Thomas didn’t answer as he pulled Alex carefully on top of him, conscious of his leg as he never broke eye contact. Like if he did Alexander would simply disappear.   
“I said, say it again.” Thomas spoke evenly, Alexander’s face level with his as they both sat up on the bed, the little man in the taller’s lap. 

Alex smiled, gravitating in closer.   
“I love you, Thomas fucking Jefferson.” He breathed. The grin on Thomas’s face spread without his consent; he couldn’t help it.   
“Again.” 

Thomas couldn’t break free from Alex’s eyes as he unbuttoned Alex’s waistcoat, fingers fumbling at the buttons. The little man only smiled, shrugging it carefully to the floor and pulling off his shirt under that. When his torso was bare, he pressed against Thomas, letting his hands find his shoulders, Thomas’s immediately snaking around Alex’s warm waist. 

“I love you.” 

Thomas shook his head slowly, relishing every second like he couldn’t believe it. But as he felt Alexander’s body, he knew that it was.

“Okay. Shut up now.” he spoke as he pressed deeply into Alexander’s mouth, not bothering to make a buildup. He had waited long enough, his patience had run out. Thomas didn’t care that it was messy and awkward and sloppy. It was perfect. 

Alex lapped far into Thomas’s mouth, taking him in as well as the two kissed. Everything was clumsy and dirty and he didn’t care. He didn’t care. 

“Fuck…” Thomas mumbled, breaking off but immediately moving to kiss his jawline, his pulse point his throat. The kisses were hot and quick, he just NEEDED to feel Alexander, to kiss him all over. He was his, he was his, he was all his.

Alexander only smiled and breathed quickly as Thomas pressed his lips to his shoulders and collarbones, and all down his chest, leaving a hot trail. 

“Hey, buddy, two way road.” Alex breathed, laughing, “You gotta say it too.” he poked Thomas sharply in the belly. The Virginian didn’t even flinch as he gathered Alexander into his arms, the little one nuzzling into the side of his neck to kiss it. 

“Would that make you shut up?” Thomas grumbled, finding Alexander’s hip bones that he was so fond of and mapping them with his thumbs.  
“It would make us even.” Alexander responded arrogantly, trying not to sigh at the touch. Thomas only laughed through his nose. 

“Fine.” he grunted, ghosting his fingers up Alexander’s back, making him shiver, “I love you, Alexander. You’re mine.” he grumbled in a way that was both romantic and dirty at the same time as he traced his light fingernails down Alex’s back, toying JUST under his waistband. 

“Stop it, Thomas.” Alex laughed, squirming at the touch.   
“I'm not going to let you go.” Thomas ignored him, gently brushing his fingers under the waistband. He gazed in Alexander’s warm brown eyes, the eyes that were his to keep. 

“Okay.” was all Alexander whispered, the most adorable smile flickering across his face. The two just looked at each other for a long time. Trying to comprehend this wild ten minutes that had changed everything. 

“Say it again, Alexander.” Thomas spoke evenly.   
“Jesus fucking Christ.” Alexander rolled his eyes as Thomas tangled a large hand in his hair, messing it up as he pulled him to his lips, devouring him once more. 

“I love you…” Alexander spoke into Thomas’s mouth as he closed his eyes, Thomas’s tongue flicking over his.

**

Aaron Burr read over the letter once more as he leaned back, exhaling deeply into his porch chair. The balcony overlooked the street as heads passed below in the darkness of night. 

He puffed on his cigar, letting the smoke out in one long breath into the night air, hanging there before dissolving into nothing. He watched for a few long moments, letting things sink in 

The greasy man folded the letter from Washington into his lap and set it there carefully, self satisfaction rising in his chest. A Cabinet invitation, he thought pompously. This was his opportunity to be in the room one more time with the two enemies. One more time before he put his plan into action. This was all he needed. 

The man crossed his legs, taking another draw on his cigar and letting it out slowly. He chuckled to himself, sighing comfortably. 

“There’s nothing like summer in the city….” He mumbled, closing his eyes and leaning back into the seat.

He smirked a snakelike grin towards the city sky.


	36. Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex learns some interesting information from Martha before leaving the Jefferson manor, but he doesn't have to leave for long. After two days, he receives a letter from Thomas that Martha has mysteriously wanted to go back Upstate, and Alexander can bring his clothes and things over because he's coming to stay. Overjoyed, he complies, and finds that Thomas has made something beautiful for him... The night that they share is full of sex, love, and each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW what a hectic week! Thanks for bearing with me, loves! so HERE is a chapter of pure love and SMUT before the plot kicks back in. I really hope you enjoy! <3 😊

It had taken Alexander a lot of coaxing and nagging from Thomas to be able to get out of his room. People were going to get suspicious, but Alex kept taking advantage of Thomas’s lack of mobility and shutting him up with his tongue. He was relentless. But after a considerable amount of whining and grumbling, Thomas had helped him back into his clothes, buttoning them up for him as Alex sat on his lap, pouting. 

Thomas finished the last button on his waistcoat and let his hands slip down to hold his thighs. He looked up at his boyfriend.  
“What?” Thomas sneered when he looked up and saw Alex crossing his arms, moping on top of him. 

“This is so fucking unfair.” he grumbled as he swung his leg up and off Thomas, lowering his feet to the ground to pull on his shoes.   
Thomas only folded his hands on his own lap sophisticatedly, “You’re going to have to be more specific.” he drawled as Alex pulled on one shoe and then the other, sitting back up on the edge of the bed with a sigh.

“After all that shit I just have to leave?” he spoke exasperatedly, turning to Thomas, “We should be having wild sex and then eating way too fucking much.” 

Thomas scoffed, “You mean YOU would be eating way too fucking much of what I cook for you.”   
“Oui.”   
“Tu vas être gros.”   
“I’m not going to be fat, your COOKING will make me fat.”   
“Not if you didn’t eat twice your bodyweight every damn time, Alexander.”  
“You know what, bye.” 

Alexander stuck his nose in the air and tossed his hair out behind him, shrugging his coat arrogantly onto his shoulders.   
“I am hereby withholding sex from your cocky ass.”   
“Mmm.” Thomas nodded slowly, squinting lovingly at Alexander, “Close the door on your way back in, love.” Thomas hummed arrogantly. Alexander rolled his eyes, standing up. 

“I hate you.” He growled, buttoning his coat.   
“You love me.” Thomas tilted his chin up haughtily, beckoning Alexander in for a kiss, and the irritated man complied.   
“I know.” he mumbled disgruntledly and gave Thomas a quick kiss on the lips before getting on his way. 

“Love you too.” Thomas said in response as Alexander straightened his cravat in the dresser mirror before clunking to the door on the wood floor. He turned his head over his shoulder to smile one last time at Thomas, looking impossibly, stupidly in love but unable to really hide it at this point. 

“You’re a mess.” Thomas blinked, unimpressed, but always slightly amused with Alexander’s little tidbits.   
“Shut up.” The smaller man smiled at his feet before pulling open the door, trying his best to shoot Thomas a scowl over his shoulder, and was met by the same haughty, arrogant smirk.

“Stop it.” Alexander laughed, blushing uncontrollably.  
“Stop what?” Thomas just kept smirking at him with that damn face.   
“That!” Alex gestured impatiently at Thomas’s whole being, annoyed.   
Thomas only gave him those cool brown eyes. 

“I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about.” he spoke, grinning, making Alexander shake his head and give up, stepping out the door.   
“You’re impossible.” he growled as he closed the door behind him, forcing himself not to catch another glimpse of Thomas on the way out. The Virginian was already far too cocky about how needy Alexander was for him; his head didn’t need to get any bigger. 

Alex straightened his little stature up taking a deep, satisfied breath, and striding towards the entrance hall. His feet clunked on the wooden floor as he passed the parlor on the left. He could hear the hushed chatter of the doctors and other visitors within. Maybe he could slip out unnoticed. God, he didn’t want to deal with Thomas’s insufferable little wife, or any other Jeffersons for that matter. He could hardly even handle one. 

As he sped up a bit to hop past the room, he peeked in for just a moment casting in one glance before breezing by. The doctors were standing in small groups and at the end of the room.  
Oh shit.

Martha Jefferson’s piercing blue eyes met his at the exact same moment he had looked in there. She stood tall, head high, hands folded authoritatively in front of her corset when she caught his glance. 

Alex immediately put his head down, walking faster to get towards the door. Fuck, fuck, fuck, he was NOT going to deal with that bitch right now, hopefully never. He jogged slightly through the entrance hall and had a hand on the huge, ornate, brass knob when-

“Mr. Hamilton.” The stern voice resounded in the entrance hall, strong and clear.  
Alexander stopped dead in his tracks, grimacing at the sound. He wanted to groan out loud, but just exhaled slowly and closed his eyes, trying to keep his cool as he turned around on one heel. 

The immigrant plastered on the tightest, most strained smile.   
“Yes?” He spoke in very false enthusiasm, and if the little woman picked up on it, she didn’t acknowledge it in the slightest. She tossed her chin up in the air, somehow finding a way to look down on him no matter her height. 

Martha stood her ground a few feet away, doing the thing where she folded her hands in front of herself again. Somehow every little thing she did found a way to get under Alexander’s skin and irk him.   
“I have a question to ask of you.” She spoke evenly. Alex scoffed and mumbled under his breath, “Whoop-dee-doo…” but she continued nevertheless. 

“Thomas, my husband,” She spoke as if that wasn’t obvious, “While he’s been in bed, his reading patterns have been far from usual and not one visitor has known what to make of it.” 

Alex paused, so confused at this point that he didn’t know what to do. He blinked and shook his head, in annoyance, “Um, I’m sorry, what?” he scoffed, letting his hand slip off the knob behind him. She raised her head even more, pursing her young, pretty red lips. 

“He won’t read anything but one book. Nothing.” She spoke stiffly, “My husband,”   
“Thomas, right?” Alexander interrupted, rolling his eyes. She scowled at him.   
“Don’t interrupt me.” She snapped coldly, blue eyes slicing into him, “My husband will only read an old copy of an Irish book called ‘Gulliver’s Travels’. I’ve never seen the dreadful old thing in my life; do you know anything of this?”

Upon hearing her words, Alexander couldn’t help but hide the growing smirk on his face. Ha, Thomas Jefferson, the hopeless romantic, a little voice snickered in his head. There was no way he wasn’t giving Thomas a hard time about this one, no. He’d rub it in for weeks. And the other, very small, non-arrogant part of Alexander’s heart ached a little bit at the words. Thomas had missed him. Thomas had missed him and tried to hold on to a piece of him, just a little piece. And that was both heartbreaking and beautiful at the same time. 

Alexander released a deep breath, retaining the tight, mocking smile on his face.   
“No. No idea what that’s about.” he shrugged it off, placing his hand on the knob again. He cocked his head at the stubborn little twenty-year-old, grinning. 

“Good day to you, Martha.” She only squinted her eyes at him, scowling and somehow remaining her stiff posture.   
“Mrs. Jefferson, if you please.” She spoke quietly.   
“Yeah. Right.” Alex sniffed rudely, opening the door behind him. He gave the standing woman a sarcastic little salute before laughing to himself and pulling the door closed. Thomas had better write him as soon as the girl was out of the house for a night. Alexander skipped down the steps lightly, the beautiful little box with the key inside bouncing against his chest pocket. He didn’t think he could wait for it. 

**

Alexander,

I have news that you will be pleased to hear, so I will get to the point promptly. My wound has healed significantly in the past two days, more so than the three days before it combined. They call it a miracle, Alexander, but I call it you.   
Because of this recent rehabilitation, Martha has been particularly and peculiarly eager to go back upstate. She left this morning on a carriage and will write me when she is to return again.   
Naturally, you will bring your clothes here at precisely six o'clock when you have finished work; I expect you to be on my doorstep at that time. Tardiness will cost you, as per usual. Bring enough clothes for at least the rest of the summer, and I would make sure your handmaid is looking after the house for some time, Alexander, you won’t be needing it. You will also find that I simply do not care if you complain, though I doubt that you will. 

Be here at six. No excuses, I have written it three times in this letter.

Sincerely,  
Thomas Jefferson  
Secretary of State

Alexander didn’t even finish reading the name at the bottom before he had dropped the letter on the floor, not bothering to do anything reasonable right now, nothing sensible. He whooped as he jumped three feet in the air, an incredible feat considering his own height, and took off, sprinting up the stairs (on all fours close to the top. What? He couldn’t contain himself). 

He burst into his bedroom, frightening the handmaid who was making the bed. She dropped a pillow on the ground, startled at his sudden entrance.   
“Oh!-“  
“Darling, go outside and hail a carriage, will you? One with space.” He breathed, far too boisterous and excited, “I’m going on a trip for the rest of the summer and I have…” He glanced at his dresser, “Some luggage.” 

**

Still on the second to last step, Alexander strained to reach the door whilst lugging his trunk up the steps. He wasn’t having the smoothest time as he panted, grabbing onto the door handle to give him leverage to haul his things up another level.

He’d had to drag his collosal trunk all the way up the lane because some other stupid carriage had been blocking it. A flower, gardening carriage of some sort with lots of space, enough to fill up a whole lane. 

“Fucking… stupid… Shit…” he grunted, clunking his trunk up the stairs and finally up to the door, letting it thud to the ground with a gasp. He paused, heaving as he swiped a hand through his sweaty hair, trying to catch his breath. 

But that shit could wait; he had to get inside and see Thomas. He’d been bursting for this moment for the past two agonizing days, but he’d never let Thomas know that; his head was already far too big. He produced the silver key from his coat and fumbled it into the lock, smiling helplessly as it clicked open. It worked; he had his own key! He thought with glee. 

With one arm, he pushed the door open, and with the other he hoisted the trunk off the ground, stepping into the cool, quiet house. 

“Thomas!” He called into the halls, kicking the door closed behind him, key jangling as he tucked it back into his pocket. He couldn’t help his positively glowing smile; he’d have the whole rest of August to live here. With Thomas. This place was his and Thomas was too. 

“Alexander.” A calm voice called back from somewhere in the house as a chair scooted back, no hint of question whatsoever in the tone. 

“Marco?” Alex hollered, laughing at his own joke whilst he heard the clunking footsteps of his partner approaching from the library, almost able to FEEL Thomas rolling his eyes. Alex let the trunk thud to the floor as Thomas appeared around the corner, striding quickly towards him with hardly any limp at all. 

He was wearing a deep, bloodred, almost scarlet coat today that flowed with his movements. His hair was combed neatly back away from his dark eyes and handsome face, which was, as always, tilted proudly into the air.

Alex laughed, “That’s where you’re supposed to say ‘polo’, Jeffers---Mmph!” 

Without ANY warning whatsoever, Thomas devoured him; his tongue was down Alex’s throat in an instant, smacking their mouths together in a hot tangle.   
“AAUuhh…!” Alexander moaned deeply into his partners mouth as Thomas slammed him into the wall, making him stumble backwards over his own feet and discard his luggage in its place, completely forgetting about it now. 

In one swift, powerful movement, Thomas seized Alex’s thighs savagely with a growl, nails digging in as he lifted him up and held him against the wall. Alex’s legs wrapped around him in immediate response, suppressing a cute little wine as he did so. 

Thomas opened and closed his lips against Alexanders at a rapid pace, absolutely ravaging him in hunger while he squeezed with his sharp nails, pinning him cruelly in place and holding him up with his hips. He ripped Alexander’s hat off his head and let it fall to the floor.

“Mmm,” Alexander breathed between kisses, pressing his hips in small, slow circles against Thomas’s, “Happy… mmh…. To see me…?” he managed as Thomas twirled his tongue around Alex’s so expertly, breathing fast at this point. 

“You’re… late…” Thomas panted, and slammed Alexander again, dragging himself against Alexander’s pelvis in order to force a long, drawn out, hurt-animal noise from the little one, relishing in it. Thomas laughed through his nose as he pressed him to the wall even more, feeling his whole body against him as he raked his tongue in and around the little one’s mouth, starving for it as Alexander pressed back with his own searing tongue, lapping into Thomas.

Thomas only sneered, and all at once pulled away from the immigrant, letting his feet drop to the floor, and took a couple steps backwards. He tossed his head tossed cockily in the air as he watched.  
Alexander stood for a moment, stunned, and looked at him incredulously, not quite comprehending that. And after a few seconds he flopped back against the wall, exhausted. His jaw dropped and he ran a hand through his already- tangled hair, he managed a little laugh. 

“That’s a lot better than ‘polo’.” he reasoned breathlessly, letting his hand drop to his side again as he tried desperately to catch his breath after… that. His heart was hammering.  
“I thought so.” Thomas smirked, a mischievous glint in his eye as he straightened his cravat, eyeing Alexander up and down like he was a meal. 

“I take it your leg is better. Considering you just drilled me against a wall?” Alexander poked playfully, moving back towards his trunk.   
“Mm.”

Thomas followed him, peeking over the little man’s shoulder to look at what he had brought. His eyebrows furrowed at the sight. 

“What’s all this?” he sneered as Alexander lifted it laboriously, forcing a strained smile as he dumped it unexpectedly into Thomas’s hands. 

“He- What the fuck?” Thomas growled, grappling at the leather trunk and finding a grip to hold it up with. Alex only grinned at him, brushing his own hands off in satisfaction.   
“My stuff.” he stated obviously, shrugging.   
Thomas shuffled it around in his arms a bit more, trying to get comfortable with the awkward weight. He grunted with effort.   
“Well, what the hell did you bring, Alexander, the fucking British Empire?!” He snarled in complete disbelief at the weight, grunting. The little man shrugged once more.

“Just my clothes.” he spoke, poking at the rug with one toe and looking down at it as he did so, “...Aaaand my work. And some books.” He finished. 

Thomas let out a frustrated growl. Fucking Alexander….   
“You’d better be glad I’m holding a whole damn Spanish fleet right now, bitch…” he grumbled darkly, beginning to thud towards their bedroom. His partner just lit up happily, standing on his tiptoes to give him a quick kiss before they headed off. 

“Love you.” He cooed genuinely.   
“Yeah you’d better.” Thomas grunted as Alexander followed in his wake. 

Thomas dumped the trunk onto the bed laboriously, and opened it. For the next hour, the two spread his things out and unpacked them, hanging the clothes next to Thomas’s in the armoire and arranging his toothbrush and combs and other toiletries around Thomas’s.   
(“What the fuck is this?”   
“Soap. Are you blind. “  
“THAT is not soap, Alexander. Fucking Christ was the pig still alive when you cut a chunk out of it?”   
“Hey! Give it back, asshole!”   
“You’re using mine. This is disgusting.”   
“Using your soap is disgusting.’   
“Your main source of protein is semen, Alexander, I wouldn’t be talking.” )

After an hour of bickering and fussing, the two were finally finished, thank God.

Alexander let out a relieved sigh and flopped back onto the bed, just letting himself starfish in exhaustion.   
“Going dark… I see the light… Tell my parents I love them, Thomas.” He mumbled. Thomas rolled his eyes, sitting down quaintly on the edge of the bed as Alex groaned.

“Nice performance, Shakespeare.” Thomas snorted, “And we talked about the sarcastic orphan jokes.”   
“Mm… Can’t hear you…Need body warmth for revival.” He grumbled, limply snagging Thomas’s waist from behind and pulling him down to the sheets.   
“Insufferable little prick…” Thomas grumbled as he went down, wrapping both his arms around Alexander’s waist and turning over to lay on top of the little one. 

“No!” Alexander squirmed beneath him uselessly as Thomas smothered his neck with kisses. “I need fucking air.” He wheezed, trying not to laugh at the ticklish kissing.   
“Hmmm, I don’t know, Alexander.” Thomas mumbled, deep kiss right below his ear,  
“Maybe I’ll just take a nice, long nap right here, so warm and soft…” He purred cruelly but playfully to Alexander, whom he was steadily crushing with his body weight, laying his own head down on the bed and closing his eyes. He pretended to snore deeply. 

Alex growled, wiggling under him.   
“Fucking whale.” He sputtered, trying not to laugh at this point. He failed, “Thomas, OFF; I’m going to fucking die.” He wheezed. Thomas just hummed and planted a kiss on his forehead before finally sitting up. He grinned to himself as Alexander gasped dramatically for air, slowly rising from the bed like he’d had a near-death experience.

“You’re mean.” He pouted to Thomas, pressing against his side for a kiss. Thomas hummed and smirked.  
“You want a kiss, mon jouet?” He purred, drawing close to Alex’s wide brown eyes as he leaned in.   
“Yeah I fucking do.” Alex whispered, closing his eyes. Thomas laughed through his nose, and stood up regally from the bed. 

Alex’s head followed his motion as he opened his eyes, immediately annoyed.  
“What the fuck, Thomas?” he crossed his arms irritably as he complained, “I want your tongue.”   
“And I don’t remember giving you the privilege.” Thomas straightened his cuffs, stripping off his jacket. The little man just shifted on the bed, watching Thomas shed his coat and hang it within the wardrobe. 

“Are we fucking now?” Alex asked curiously, swinging his legs enthusiastically, “Can I get my collar?” 

Thomas just brushed himself off aristocratically, turning back around to face Alexander. He leered in disdain.   
“You’re insatiable.” He sneered, rolling his eyes.   
“Hey, buddy, I haven’t cummed in five whole days. FIVE.” Alexander held up a hand to express the magnitude of that whole statement. 

Thomas only snorted, “Wow, Alexander. A record for you?” He inquired lightly, heading into the bathroom to comb back his handsome dark hair and admire his reflection.  
“Yeah, you bet your ass that’s a record. I used to have young boys like you at my beck and call; I never had to wait to cum before you came along.” 

“Careful, Alexander….” Thomas’s muffled voice growled from the bathroom, giving him ample warning. Alex just got more aroused at the sound of Thomas being so jealous and possessive about him. 

Thomas strolled out, looking as fresh as ever as he craned his neck to peer out the window. Alex looked where his partner was looking, curious.   
“Alexander, love, is the sun about to set?” He asked, an odd look in his eyes. Alex cocked his head and looked out at the glass.

“Looks like it. Why?” Alex inquired, “Go get your glasses if you can’t see.”   
“Mhm, you want me to get them for another reason.”   
“Of course not!” Alexander gasped in sarcastic shock, as Thomas stepped closer, smiling lightly as he approached the little one sitting on the bed.   
“To even assume I would use your impairment as a kink is preposterous.” He grinned widely, mischief twinkling in his eyes as Thomas stopped in front of him, standing between his knees. 

“What?” Alex laughed, looking up at his partner. Thomas just looked down on him, the pure passion undisguised in his gaze. He placed a large palm on each of Alex’s thighs, pressing gently.   
He sighed, “Here’s what I want you to do, Alexander.” He spoke softly and cooly, stroking his thumbs lightly over Alex’s legs, “I, of course, have something planned for tonight. Something special I made for us.”   
“Us.”   
“Us.” Thomas nodded and peered deep into his eyes, making Alexander blush at the sound of that on his tongue. Thomas continued. 

“Now. I want you to be a good boy and get my glasses from my study and meet me out on the porch. This porch. Yes?”   
“Yes.” Alexander echoed obediently, already squirming in anticipation to get up. Thomas just held him in place with his light hands, brown eyes regarding him carefully. Some moments of silence passed, Alexander so anxious to go. 

“Please?” He whispered, wiggling a bit. That was what Thomas wanted to hear. The Virginian smiled sweetly at him.   
“Go, mon amour.” He spoke collectedly, watching in amusement as Alexander popped up from the bed, jogging towards the study. 

Already excited and curious, Alex trotted into Thomas’s study, rounding his desk to search the top of it. After a few moments, he found the glasses in the tiny top drawer and nabbed them, jogging back towards the bedroom. 

He had put them on his own face, laughing as they basically fell off.   
“Thomas, look.” He laughed, opening the door to the porch breathlessly. But when he stepped out there, he stopped dead in his tracks. 

His breath hitched in his chest.  
“Holy shit, Thomas…” he whispered, slowly bringing the glasses down from is face. 

Thomas stood at the arched exit of the porch that led out into the forest path. Except the entire porch was… covered... in blooming, red roses. Alexander positively gaped, jaw dropping at the sight. No. Fucking. Way. 

The archway towards the woods was draped in nothing but roses. And looking around Thomas, he could see that the PATH through the forest was lined all the way with roses and candles, lit up in the fading light so all that could be seen was the illuminated trail. Thomas smiled at his reaction, beckoning cooly for Alexander. 

The little man stepped slowly, numbly towards him, jaw still dropped in awe as the scent of warm, burning candles and the perfume of roses engulfed them. He couldn’t believe his eyes. 

“Thomas…” He sputtered, mouth not quite working, “did you…?”   
“Yes.” He responded shortly, folding his hands in front of him. Alex stopped now, the both of them standing under the arch. He ran a hand through his own long hair.   
“I mean… I saw, like, a huge gardening carriage out there, but I didn’t think you…” He breathed, smiling.

“Well, I did.” Thomas responded, gently allowing his arms to find Alexander’s hips and rest there, pulling him close. Alexander gravitated towards him, a touched look in his brown gaze, still in disbelief. 

He looked down on him and sighed.   
“Alexander,” He began calmly, brown eyes gazing into another set. Alex was just so… happy. There was nothing stopping him from saying it. 

“I would bring you ten thousand roses every day for the rest of my life if it meant seeing this look in your eyes.” Thomas whispered, lifting a hand to tuck a lock of Alex’s hair behind his ear. Alexander’s breath hitched in his throat.   
“I love you.” Thomas spoke, letting the same hand brush Alex’s cheek with the back of his fingers. Alexander leaned into the touch. 

“I don’t know what to say…” Alex looked up at Thomas, “Fuck I’m gonna cry. Shit.” he laughed, tilting his head towards the ceiling and blinking rapidly to hold the tears in. Thomas’s heart soared in his chest, and he laughed gently.

“Come on, my lovely little emotional disaster.” Thomas smiled, earning him a sharp elbow in the side from his partner. Thomas only chuckled and offered Alexander his hand, standing up tall like a true gentleman. 

Alexander gave his hand to Thomas, grinning playfully.

The sun was below the horizon now, painting the clouds a soft pink color as some pale stars began to show their faces. The path through the woods was quiet and the light perfume-scent of roses enveloped their noses, candles flickering to light the way. It didn’t take long for Alexander to realize that they were heading to the lake. 

But for the time being, he just savored the moment, the feeling of Thomas’s large hand wrapped around his. Leaning into the man he loved and just drinking it all in. 

“Where are we going?” Alexander asked curiously after some time of silence. Their feet crunched satisfyingly on the pine needles.   
Thomas just sniffed, “You’ll see.” He said simply, stroking thumb across the back of Alex’s hand. He chuckled and leaned in a bit closer, “A place where no one will hear you scream.” his deep voice whispered hotly against his ear. Alex tried not to shiver with lust. 

“I really can’t tell if you’re going to fuck me or murder me.” He laughed, bumping playfully into Thomas, who hummed.   
“I guess we’ll find out.” he quipped.  
“Thrilled.” 

Finally, the two emerged from the woods and onto the bank of the lake, walking camly along the edge. The slight breeze sent ripples across the surface, the candlelight’s reflection flickered warmly on the water. 

“Glasses, Alexander.” Thomas requested, holding out a hand. Alex pulled them out of his pocket and completely ignored Thomas’s hand, hopping up a bit to place them on his face. 

“There. You’re welcome.” He spoke as Thomas swatted him away, straightening the lopsided frames on his face, fussing over them. Alex just grinned and watched him, stared at him as they strolled around the edge of the lake. Thomas was peering at the little clearing that they were approaching.

“What is it, I can’t see.” Alex craned, walking on his tiptoes for a moment.   
“Well, why didn’t you fucking bring YOUR glasses?” Thomas scolded.  
“You didn’t remind me!” Alex justified.   
“Am I your fucking babysitter?”   
“Boyfriend. I vote boyfriend.”   
“Mmhm.” Thomas grunted exasperatedly. 

But as they approached closer and closer to the clearing, Alexander could squint and slowly make out what was going on there. For the second time today, his jaw dropped to his chest in gaping realization. 

“Thomas. You did not.” He gaped, pulling his hand away from Thomas’s and heading off at an excited jog. Instead of snagging Alex’s hair and pulling him back, Thomas just watched the little one in his childlike excitement, running towards the beautiful little campsite he had made.

“No fucking way!” Alexander’s muffled voice rang out as he lowered on hands and knees and crawled into the pristine, white tent, “It’s HUGE in here!” he exclaimed, shuffling around. Thomas laughed through his nose walking carefully towards it as well.   
“That’s because that’s a king bed you’re walking on.” Thomas spoke, “Shoes off.” 

The rose path that led up to the tent split and wrapped around the base, creating a thick bed of blood red roses around it. Within the tent itself, the entire floor was just a soft, swan-feather bed that could easily fit four people, plump pillows or not. 

A bit closer to the lake, a wide, white blanket was also spread out, an ornate basket with wine, Foccacia bread and crème brûlée carefully packed within. The wine glasses twinkled in the fading light. 

“Thomas. Thomas.” Alex stuck his head out, looking like an over-excited puppy, “Come on, come in.”  
“I’ve been in, Alexander. Who d’ya think set it up?”   
“Ayuh been in, Alexunder. Who’d’ya thank set ‘t up?” Alex’s muffled voice mocked as Thomas sneered in offense. He rolled his eyes and reached in an arm, probing around until he found Alexander’s cravat. 

“Hey- ack!” Alexander choked as Thomas yanked on it, dragging him out of the tent like a stray cat.   
“Your attitude is so out of control.” He shook his head, dusting off his hands as Alexander stood up. The little man straightened his cravat while glaring at Thomas.   
“Whatever.” He scoffed, earning himself a very dangerous look from those icy eyes. 

“Last warning, Alexander. I suggest you take it.” He spoke frigidly, voice as even and in control as ever as he turned on a heel, crunching in the needles away from Alex.  
“Hungry?” He inquired over his shoulder as he strolled cockily over to the blanket, knowing exactly what his partner wanted. Alex rolled his eyes at the aristocratic piece of shit that he absolutely adored. The man knew him far too well. 

“Yes.” He grumbled in annoyance, kicking a pebble as he followed Thomas to the blanket and plopped down next to him. Well, basically on top of him, mumbling about his stupid boyfriend.   
“What was that?” Thomas cooed mockingly, popping open the wine bottle with content. 

Alex just nuzzled into him.   
“Stupid boyfriend. Just give me wine.” Thomas laughed through his nose.   
“Found a new motto?”   
“Yes.” 

Alex took the glass that Thomas offered him quantly, and took a deep sip, glaring at Thomas through the crystal. The Virginian only stared at him, light smile playing on his face as he looked down on his partner and swirled the glass.

“What?” Alex scoffed.  
“Can’t take you seriously with the glass distorting your face like a codfish.” Thomas snickered, taking a sip of his own whilst Alexander rested his head on Thomas’s shoulder.   
“I really don’t like you.”   
“Ha. You wish that were true.”   
Alexander sighed, looking out onto the water as if he were about to say something deep, “Nah. I’d miss the good dicking.”   
Thomas snorted.

“Well.” he smiled gently, wrapping one arm around Alex’s waist and rubbing comfortingly, “I’m glad you love getting your ass destroyed. Better for me.”   
“Mmph. Better for me.” Alex grunted, taking another sip and a bit out of a large piece of bread that Thomas offered, not letting him hold it though. 

“When did you figure out that you’re a pain freak with a power-play fetish?” Thomas asked conversationally, taking a bite out of the bread too.

Alex scoffed, surprised. “Uh, I don’t know, when did you find out that you are a control freak with a submission kink?” 

Ooh, he'd really just suddenly made a big mistake.

Alexander felt that signature low rumbling from a deep place in Thomas’s chest as he was pressed up against him. It was always a warning growl when it happened like this. A reminder of the alpha of the pack. And so fucking hot. 

“Shit. How do you even do that?” Alexander looked up from Thomas’s shoulder. The man only peered down at him, hostile look in his eyes.   
“Do what?” He sneered.   
“That. The warning growl.” Alex mentioned casually, “You do it all the time.”

“Warning growl.” Thomas twirled the glass in his hands, considering the word carefully on his tongue for a moment and then letting a slight smirk play on his face in amusement, “Is that what you call it?”   
“Is that what it is?” Alex countered. 

Thomas nodded in satisfaction, “Of course, Alexander. Good that you know what your daddy wants.” He took another quaint sip, licking his lips, “However, it reflects poorly on the abundant times that you’ve ignored it.” 

“Can’t help it.” Alexander shrugged innocently, grinning to himself as he ever so softly trailed a hand down Thomas’s side, gliding smoothly under his shirt. Thomas just watched him coldly as he traced his fingers lightly over Thomas’s lower belly, not flinching. Alexander was pushing his luck. He was pushing it, and Thomas was observing VERY closely exactly when Alexander crossed the line. 

“Because sometimes I just simply don’t give a fuck.” He gave a little, sharp tug to that sexily masculine line of hair that trailed between Thomas’s abs on his lower belly.   
The Virginian gasped, his hips bucking up just a bit in response. Alexander raised his eyebrows, parting his lips.  
“Oh, you like that?” he purred.

That was the last thing he got to say before his body hit the floor with a smack.

Thomas had rounded on him viciously, pinning him down in one swift motion that sent Alexander’s glass shattering to the ground behind him. One hand holding his throat, he was on his hands and knees over Alexander. 

Alex bared his teeth, “You broke your own fucking glass, smartass.”   
Thomas used his other hand to backhand Alex across the mouth, “How dare you…” He seethed, flashing his own canines in challenge to Alexander’s.   
“You have a death wish, Hamilton?” Thomas sneered, tightening his grip on Alex’s throat and making him cough. 

“Come off it, you pussy.” Alex snarled squirming around under Thomas. The Virginian just stared down at him quietly with those sharp, steely eyes. There was a moment where Thomas didn’t say anything, and Alexander knew he was in trouble. 

“Alright, Alexander.” He spoke cooly, “It’s clear that your little five day grace period has made you forget who the fuck you’re talking to.” He spat, eyes still maintaining the same composure.   
“So I need you to go the fuck to the tent, and you’d better have your clothes off in thirty seconds or I’ll make it hurt more than it’s already going to.”   
Thomas released him all at once, standing up smoothly and brushing himself off as if he had just touched something distasteful. 

Alex laid there for a moment, coughing a bit as he slowly propped himself up and leaned back on his hands, adrenaline and exhilaration already pumping through his veins.   
“You’d better be gentle on me.” Alexander smirked, biting his lip exactly how he knew Thomas liked it. 

The Virginian smiled lightly, stripping off his coat and shrugging it to the ground.   
“Tent, Alexander.” He spoke softly, unbuttoning his waistcoat in the most dainty and elegant manner, “And be very careful what you wish for.” 

Alex stood stiffly from the ground, running his hand through his already-messy hair, trying to smooth it down. He ducked into the pretty, white tent, settling himself against some fluffy pillows as he stripped himself. 

Before he was halfway done, he saw the flap move as Thomas entered as well, somehow ten times less clumsy than him. 

He laughed. “That was qui-” but he was cut off as Thomas dove forward and pulled him into a deep kiss, sending his tongue snaking around Alexander’s. God… how did he learn how to do that. Gently stroking the bottom of it, he coaxed it into his own mouth.

Alexander could only hum in surprised content as Thomas crawled on top of him like he was prey, carefully untying and slipping off his pants and discarding them to the other side of the bed.   
“Thomas…” Alex gasped between kisses, getting cut off as Thomas pulled his tongue back, “Mmm.” Was all he could manage as the larger man slowly pushed him down to the bed, making him lay flat on his back. Thomas followed him smoothly, devouring him on the way down with his hot tongue.

He took his sweet time with Alexander, making sure to leave a new batch of hickeys where the others had all faded.   
“A reminder.” He grumbled lowly, pressing his tongue to a new bruise on the side of Alex’s neck before moving to the tender spot right between his collarbones and making another dark mark there.   
“Of who you belong to.” He panted as Alex just whimpered, head falling back as he exposed himself and let the pain rock him into bliss.   
“Yes…”   
“You miss your daddy? Hmm?” He trailed his tongue up Alex’s throat and bit it, making Alexander whine sharply. 

“Fuck!” 

“I asked you a question, mon jouet.” He asked calmly, sitting back on Alex’s hips while the little one laid flat below, “Show me those good manners.” He purred, watching Alex’s chest flutter as he breathed quickly. Thomas laughed through his nose at the effect he had on his helpless partner and placed a palm on Alex’s belly. 

“You miss me?” He hummed, pressing the palm in slow, deep circles on the place where heat was inevitably curling in Alexander’s belly. Alex squeaked, forcing his eyes shut. Thomas knew from earlier that this was a very sensitive spot for his partner, and there was no way he wouldn’t take advantage of it. He cocked his head, looking at Alexander emotionlessly as he took a less satisfying, more tormenting approach. 

With the backs of his nails, he ever so faintly trailed them over his belly, up and down like he was a prized possession.   
“Look at you… So desperate for it.” Thomas mocked, gliding his nails up Alexander’s extremely sensitive sides, ghosting over his ribs and staying there, just twirling around the bones.   
“You going to beg, my little slut? Hm?” Alexander made a long, drawn out, shaky noise somewhere between a sigh and a whimper. 

“Please, Thomas. God…” He squirmed, trying to escape the feather-light touch. It was useless as Thomas just watched him coldly in his struggle. Alexander gritted his teeth in need, trying to grind up into Thomas, but sensing his actions, the Virginian lifted up with the same speed of his hips, just enough so that he couldn’t touch him. 

“Fucking bastard. You’re sick.” Alex spat, letting his hips fall back once again as Thomas laughed cruelly through his nose.   
“Watch your mouth, Alexander.” he purred, trailing his fingers now up Alex’s arms. 

Locking their eyes together, Thomas slowly…. Ever so slowly trailed his hands up Alex’s arms, bringing them gradually over his head at the same pace as he dragged his pelvis heavily over Alex’s. 

“Oh my god… Fuck…” Alex whimpered, flexing his jaw while he tried to deal with it. Thomas just went… SO slowly.   
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…” Alexander sputtered quickly, squeezing his eyes shut as his wrists were pinned to the bed.

“Too much?” Thomas taunted, letting his face hover above Alexander’s, “Maybe I should stop for a while...” He threatened, taking one of his hands to brush some hair out of Alex’s face.   
“Hmm?” he pouted condescendingly, letting his fingers brush over Alex’s lips and jaw. 

“No… no, no, please,” Alex sputtered, “Don’t… I need-” he cut himself off with a choke as Thomas pressed his tip to his entrance. He was so ready, and squirmed desperately to try and push him in. His eyes shot open, staring pleadingly into Thomas’s,   
“Thomas!” He breathed, unable to move himself with his arms. He just arched his back up from the bed and tried to wiggle his hips into Thomas, giving a frustrated growl when there was no effect. 

“So needy and squirmy.” Thomas shook his head fondly, “Don’t you want me to open you up first?” He amused himself, lifting that one hand from Alex’s face and trailing a finger all the way down his body. 

“No. No just take me, Thomas. Stop fucking with me.” He growled whilst Thomas completely ignored his begging, letting his hand dip between Alexander’s legs and ghost so torturously around his opening, teasing him. 

“Stop...” Alexander choked somewhere between a sob and a whimper, but they both knew he didn’t mean it. Thomas smirked down at him and pushed two fingers in, too slowly to not be cruel, and found his prostate like it was second nature. He pressed lightly, making Alexander release a completely involuntary moan that was so loud, it echoed off the lake outside.  
He panted, curling his toes and balling up the covers in his fists. 

“You want to cum?” Thomas asked generously, pulling his fingers out and making Alex whimper with how empty he was. Because NOBODY was fucking touching him and he couldn’t do anything about it.   
“Yes! Yes, Thomas, PLEASE.” he wiggled, letting his head fall to the bed once more, the first sob heaving out of him. 

Thomas brought the hand back up to hold Alexander’s wrists, gazing down lovingly into those brown eyes.   
“Okay. Look at me.” Thomas commanded, pushing the tip back against Alexander. The little one only choked another sob, so in need.   
“Alexander.” Thomas spoke calmly, coaxing Alex’s eyes to his, “Look at me.” After a few moments, Alex’s drifting eyes focused on Thomas’s. 

“Good.” Thomas spoke, inching his hips forward the slightest bit and pushing in. Alexander already knew that he wasn’t going to go in quickly, he had lost that privilege. Thomas stopped when the tip was in, stretching him but not giving him anything to fill up with.  
Alex started to cry harder.

Thomas just watched the tears slip down his face. He was so perfect like this. So perfect…   
“Do you see what you’re missing when you're a bad boy?” Thomas spoke quietly, planting a comforting kiss on Alexander’s forehead.   
Alex swallowed tearfully, “Mhmm.” He whimpered, nodding. 

“You have no idea how good you’re being right now. So good.” Thomas pushed in inch by torturous inch, letting Alexander feel Thomas, remember what it was to have Thomas inside of him. 

The little one breathed rapidly, sides fluttering with the panting.   
“Breathe, love.” Thomas spoke comfortingly, making Alexander inhale deeply and exhale a very long, shaky breath. 

“There…” Thomas praised, holding still for a few seconds. He just gazed at Alexander’s concentrated face, the little one’s chest rising and falling as his watery eyes gazed right back into Thomas’s. 

“I love you.” Thomas spoke cooly, still not moving. It was such a simple, and genuine statement.   
Alexander nodded, swallowing again as a tear slipped down his cheek.  
“Love you. Love you, Thomas.” he managed, trying to stay composed with his partner inside him but everything was all too much at one time. The punishment, the pain, the pleasure, the love. It was all there at the same time and Thomas made it all possible. 

“I want you to feel me inside of you, mon jouet. I know it’s hard.” He spoke sympathetically, giving Alexander another kiss on the forehead as he whimpered, lip quivering. Thomas would be gentle. Thomas would be sweet for as long as Alexander was obedient. That was Thomas Jefferson’s golden rule. Act up, you’re getting handcuffed to a wall and fucked mercilessly, but tonight Alexander was being so goddamn sweet for his Thomas, so Thomas was being sweet for him. 

Alex just closed his eyes, hard. He felt so incredibly full, Thomas’s pulsing cock was so still inside of him. 

And then he started to move. Alexander positively MELTED below his larger counterpart, head falling to the side as his lips moved wordlessly, only letting out a pitiful moan of relief. Finally… 

Thomas moved slowly at first, and then gradually sped up so that Alex wouldn’t get overwhelmed and have an unsatisfying climax. Because he would absolutely cum right then and there, but Thomas could bring him further. He knew he could, and he knew Alexander’s limits. 

Alex spread his legs more, allowing for maximum friction as Thomas moved in the fastest, yet shortest fucking bursts of speed that he had ever felt. They were so short and fast, in fact, that it felt like vibrating, a deep, buzzing vibration that was taking over his entire abdomen, all of it. 

His head fell from side to side as he grappled madly for the sheets, balling them up and clenching them in his fists. He squirmed on Thomas’s cock, so full and happy.   
“You like that, mon amour?” Thomas purred with that fucking deep voice. He leaned in closer next to Alexander’s ear, “Tu es si bon pour ton maître, Alexander....” He purred, biting at Alex’s throat, “Aimez-vous la douleur, Hmm...?” He rumbled, “Voulez-vous que je vous fasse jouir?” 

Alex’s eyes rolled into the back of his head, and his breathing sped up.   
“Haaaahhh...Thomas... Thomas, I love you.... I love you...I ...” his eyes rolled back again, hips jerking a bit. He was close and Thomas knew it like an instinct. He continued to thrust shortly into the little one. 

“Such a good boy, Alexander....” he breathed lowly, “I’m going to touch your cock now, and I want you to cum. Can you do that for me?” Thomas requested, planting a light kiss on his cheek.   
The little one nodded feverishly, swallowing as more tears slipped from his eyes into his hair.   
“Yes.” He sputtered, sobbing, “Please…” Was all he could whimper before Thomas let go of his wrists with one hand and trailed it down is body just brushing over the skin.

Alex breathed in short little gasps, chest heaving against the light touch.   
His lip quivered as he cried, and Thomas took pity on him for behaving so well. The Virginian kept the same, buzzing pace into Alexander and wrapped a hand loosely around his rock-hard cock, letting it twitch needily in his hand before he gripped more firmly. The simple touch made Alexander wine before Thomas started deep, slow strokes, completely contrasting with what he was doing with his own cock. And it was perfect. 

Alexander couldn’t take it anymore. He couldn’t handle it. With the vibrating feeling all up through his abdomen and the deep satisfaction on his cock, he was done for.   
“Thomas!” He cried shrilly, quite unsure of what to even do with his body right now; it felt like he was in overdrive.  
“Please cum… Please, please, on my face, Thomas, please!” He begged, sobbing. There was nothing that would completely push him over more than watching Thomas get his satisfaction out of him. 

Thomas smirked, slamming home for the first time in the whole night, making Alexander scream at the top of his lungs. Just the sound of him was enough as Thomas pulled out, moving forward a bit while still jerking Alexander so he could cum in his mouth. 

“Now, Alexander.” Thomas ordered firmly twisting his wrist on an upstroke. And that did it.   
His partner let out a guttural scream as he shot all the way up to his chest, teeth baring.

Thomas watched as Alex’s back arched violently away from the bed, pulling his whole body up as he let his orgasm completely tear him to shreds, second by second.   
“Haahh, haahh, haahh…” He breathed in short, shrill gasps, shivering and shuddering as Thomas jerked out the last of it, his eyes rolling into the back of his head in pure pleasure as he smiled through the tears, fucked completely silly. 

The little one was completely incoherent, falling apart, but Alexander collapsed flat on his back and parted his jaws wide open, tongue out for Thomas. The sight of him opening up so subconsciously was fucking irrisistible. 

“Fuck… Fuck, Alexander…” he hissed through bared teeth, letting his powerful release hit home right on Alex’s ready tongue, the little one opening wider to capture all of it as his eyes failed to focus on anything at all in his floating ecstasy. 

Thomas shuddered at his own orgasm, but stayed down to earth just to be able to watch Alex. God… It was something he’d never forget. 

The little one squirmed slowly, toes curling as he weakly clenched and unclenched the sheets, like he was trying to find reality but simply couldn’t cope with the pleasure. At the same time he twitched and shivered, whimpering these pitiful little happy noises as he lapped up all of Thomas’s cum.

But what REALLY got Thomas is that he was fucking taking his time. 

Even though he was half delirious, he slowly opened and closed his mouth, letting the sticky substance coat his tongue and mouth. He hummed contently while he finally swallowed, opening his eyes for the first time since his climax. 

He blinked them open lazily, focusing them on Thomas, who was already wiping him down gently with a clean handkerchief.  
“Thomas, I can’t fucking feel my legs.” he laughed, trying to keep his eyes open. Thomas leaned in close over him and smiled. 

“What?” Alexander spoke weakly, grinning.   
“Give it another minute, Alexander. You take three to come down from an orgasm.”   
“Do not.” 

Thomas just laughed through his nose and bent to give Alexander one deep kiss on the lips before pulling away slightly.   
“I can taste myself on your tongue.” Thomas rumbled, smacking his lips and wrinkling his nose as he sat up.  
“That’s so fucking hot.” Alex sighed, letting his head fall back.  
“No. It’s barbaric.” he snorted, moving towards the tent flap.  
“Hot.” 

“I’m going to get us the food, don’t move.” he grunted, opening the flap and stepping out.  
“I’m not hungry.”   
“What? Pigs are flying out here, Alexander, you should come see.” Thomas’s muffled voice called back.   
In just a few moments, he was back again, wine bottle in hand and small glass dish in the other. Alexander had already buried himself under the blankets and pillows, naked, of course. 

“What’s that?” Alexander asked curiously as Thomas crawled over to him sighing while he climbed in next to him.   
“That,” he spoke matter-of-factly, “Is crème brûlée.” He enunciated perfectly, handing Alex the wine bottle while he settled in next to him. The little one immediately gravitated to him, snuggling up against his warm skin, and Thomas wrapped an arm around Alex’s back and waist, holding him tightly to his body. 

The two shuffled down until they were snugly leaning against the pillow pile, Alexander’s head on Thomas’s shoulder. Thomas sighed deeply, while Alexander took a sip of the wine. He wished he could save this moment. That would be perfect. 

With a tiny, silver spoon, Thomas cut into his fluffy dish and brought it to his mouth. Of course, everything he made was delicious. He was taking another spoonful when he noticed Alexander eyeing him heavily from his shoulder.   
“What?” He sneered. With the look in Alex’s eye, he already knew.   
“Please?” 

Thomas rolled his entire head back, sighing in exasperation as he let the spoon clink into the dish.   
“Are you kidding me?” he scoffed, “You said you weren’t hungry. No.”   
“Please? One bite?” he pressed closer into Thomas and leaned his head on him, giving him those big, brown, puppy eyes.   
“Please?” 

Thomas stared down on him. Fuck, the puppy eyes. Always the puppy eyes. He couldn’t say no to THAT; it was damn near impossible. 

He groaned, picking the spoon back up and taking a piece of the dessert.   
“Fine.” He grunted, “Open.”   
Alexander’s eyes positively lit up with joy, opening his mouth obediently for the food and closing around the spoon. Thomas pulled it away gently and watched him closely for his expression. 

It was priceless. The way he reacted to the delectable French dessert that Thomas had made himself. His eyes widened and then closed; he hummed as he savored it on his tongue.   
“Wow…” Alex breathed, shaking his head a bit before returning it to its place on Thomas’s shoulder. 

Thomas laughed gently, reaching to pull Alexander’s legs over his own. He couldn’t explain it, he just HAD to be closer to him, all over him all the time.   
“Good as my cum or better?” Thomas joked, planting a kiss on the top of Alexander’s head.   
“Oh shut up, I do not react that way to your cum.” 

Thomas pulled away in shock, pausing. 

“Alexander, you’re joking, right?” he scoffed. The little one just gazed up at him.   
“What?”   
Thomas shook his head, completely in disbelief.  
“Hamilton, you orgasmed and WHILE that was happening, you played with my cum on your tongue for a whole damn minute.”   
“Did not.”  
“Yes you did.”   
“Liar.”  
“Right back at you.” Alex settled his head back on Thomas’s shoulder, nestling into his neck. The two were silent for a few moments now. 

The sun had completely set and the woods were dark, but in the least threatening way possible. It felt warm and hidden away from the world and city life. Safe. The night air smelled freshly of the lake, and cicadas, crickets, and frogs sang their loud forest symphony. 

Alexander sighed, drinking in the night… the lake. Thomas. Suddenly, he looked up at him, not even knowing what he was saying. 

“Do you ever wish you could just stop time?”

Thomas blinked, caught off guard by the unexpectedly deep question. His immediate instinct threw up his walls, make a joke. But he coaxed them down. This is Alexander. Just Alexander.

He sighed, setting the empty dish aside. The Virginian swallowed, allowing himself to answer.   
“Sometimes.” He sniffed, shrugging. Alexander went on despite Thomas’s vague answer. 

“I do.” he continued, going to that place of teenager-like passion, “If I had to choose one moment to live in forever, it’d be this.” he sighed, shuffling a bit closer in his sleepiness. He yawned, pulling the covers further over them, “Definitely this.” 

Thomas took the wine bottle from him and corked it firmly, setting it aside as well. He wrapped both arms around Alexander’s waist, pulling them both down to lay exhaustedly in bed.   
“I agree with that.” Thomas breathed, intertwining his legs with Alex’s and pulling his whole body to lay against his, “I could live with this.” 

Alex exhaled deeply, pressing his forehead against Thomas’s neck and curling his arms against Thomas’s chest. The larger Virginian enveloped him closer, tilting his head down to meet Alex’s lips tenderly. 

Their kiss was long and passionate. It flowed into another kiss and then another until the two were slowly opening and closing their lips against each other, neither one rushing anything. It was slow and deep. When they were too exhausted to continue, Thomas placed his chin on top of Alex’s head, resting it there with a sigh. 

Alexander closed his eyes, letting the warmth radiating from Thomas’s skin come into him. The moment was so beautiful. So… perfect.   
And he was guilty. 

It was so slight, but it was there. The little, tiny nagging voice reminding him that he betrayed Thomas… he betrayed Thomas with his plan. And Alex pushed it away, not letting it ruin this night. Not tonight… 

Ten minutes of silence passed. Just the lapping of gentle waves on the bank. The frogs. The breeze rustling high in the trees. 

“I know you only read Gulliver’s Travels, Thomas.” Alex whispered so quietly from within Thomas, half asleep. He didn’t even move at all to say it. 

The Virginian did not respond. 

Alexander just needed to know, “Why is that?” he persisted. And answer took a while to come. 

“Because I could feel you in the pages.” He spoke evenly, and somehow... that was enough. Somehow Alexander knew exactly what he meant by those words. He sighed, curling against his lover. 

“I love you, Thomas.” Alex whispered weakly, drifting off. Thomas hugged him closer, planting a kiss on the top of his head.  
“I love you too.”


	37. In the Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Martha arrives Upstate to an excited Eliza, and darkly expresses her growing thoughts on something between their husbands... Washington and Madison take a quick stroll through the night and discuss something you'll want to hear. The next day is a Cabinet meeting, and all seems to be going smoothly. Alexander is acting like a complete brat, and Thomas, having had enough, yanks him into a broom closet to teach him some manners. 
> 
> That is until they hear footsteps. Someone, someone who would sneak around, had heard them.   
And Alexander yells at Thomas to run. The Treasurer is the one that gets caught.  
And who else to catch him but the man who has been plotting this moment since the day they met?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a wild ride, and it's about to get wilder! AAHH! Love you all so much! <3

Martha Jefferson, hand-luggage gripped firmly in her grasp, stepped up onto the wide front porch of the Schuyler mansion. She knocked curtly, stepping away from the door for a moment as she awaited a response. The little woman found herself praying that it would be Eliza. 

Thomas Jefferson’s wife cleared her throat and gazed around the rolling landscape that she could only see so much of in the dusky light; she had left that same morning and only now arrived. But she sighed, because three times that journey would be worth the destination. The countryside rolled, trimmed and green, around the house; the forest laid beyond, fireflies bobbing between the trees. 

She only heard footsteps for a brief moment before the door cracked open in the most reluctant, careful way.   
“Who is it?” A hesitant voice asked quietly. Martha basically melted with relief; it was Eliza Hamilton. Not Angelica or their mother or father. Just Eliza. 

“Eliza.” Martha breathed in relieved joy, reaching forth to pull the door wide open herself. Cool air from the house buffeted her face as she revealed the woman standing behind. 

Martha let a smile break across her stony face for the first time in three long days at the sight of the breathtaking girl before her. She was wearing an elegant, deep blue evening dress with golden lace around the sleeves and collar. She looked like she belonged in a French castle, long, dark hair spilling over her shoulders, not tied up into a smooth bun anymore. 

Eliza’s timid face lifted immediately at the sight of the headstrong little blonde at her doorstep, speaking in action more than words.  
“Martha!” She whisper-shouted, reaching forth to snag her hand and pull her hastily inside. Martha laughed in surprise, stepping in the mansion that had become familiar to her in the past week.

“Where-” Martha began, but the usually quiet and reserved girl cut her off, still pulling her hand down the entrance hall.   
“One moment, in here.” She veered to the left, pulling open a plain door and leading them both inside. Martha stumbled in and stopped, a little bit frazzled, and looked around. It was just a coat room, overcoats and hats hung around them on pegs. But the scenery was not the part that mattered right now. 

“You came back!” Eliza exclaimed excitedly, and pulled her into a tight hug.  
Martha hesitated at first, caught off guard. Usually she was the one that was engaging Eliza in these sort of things, and she was in control. But the embrace felt so… right, her warm body pressed against her own. So she allowed herself to enjoy the woman’s elation, wrapping her arms snugly around Eliza’s waist and bunching up the dress in her hands. 

“You thought I would not?” Martha’s witty blue eyes flashed up at Eliza as the two finally broke apart to speak. Eliza just smiled bashfully, looking down at her shoes.   
“Well… I don’t know.” She looked around, blushing. Martha just smiled at her little tendencies and habits that she had come to adore.   
“Well, I’m here now.” She tossed her head up firmly, towering over Eliza with her personality, “All the way until you go back to New York.” She spoke cooly, letting her words comfort Eliza. 

The taller brunette tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, still joyous before a more grave look overcame her face. She met Martha’s eyes, a modest guilt almost in them as she realized she had indulged in her own worries without asking about what had happened to Martha. 

“... And, Thomas,” She began slowly, sensitive empathy in her gaze, “How is he doing…?”   
Martha only peered back up at Eliza with those proud eyes, folding her hands in front of her corset. 

“Oh, he’s fine. I’d say he’s quite well.”   
“Oh, thank God!” Eliza breathed in relief. The amount of empathy the woman had… 

“And your husband, Alexander. He is just the same.” Martha continued, knowing that she was about to tell Eliza what she had been thinking for the past two days since his visit… 

The brunette was caught off guard by Martha’s comment, taken aback. She blinked in confusion, maybe Martha had made a mistake.   
“Wait…” She made Martha meet her eyes, “Alexander came to visit… Thomas?” she emphasized the Virginian’s name to show how her true bewilderment. Martha nodded curtly, opening her mouth to speak, ready to tell the whole story. 

“Thomas wouldn’t sleep. Wouldn’t eat. He wouldn’t do any work. Alexander shows up every day for three days, Eliza. Three.” She spoke slowly, watching Eliza’s brows slowly furrow with disbelief. The Virginian continued anyway, needing to say what she’d been dying to say.

“The third day we let him in. He stays with my husband for over twenty minutes, just the two of them. No briefcases, no work. They weren’t working, Eliza.” She began to speed up the pace of her words, making sure to keep the chestnut-haired woman with her.

“He leaves and-” Martha snaps her fingers loudly, letting her hand fall back to her side, “voilà. My husband is eating. He’s sleeping. He’s healing...” 

Eliza was looking at her feet, concentrating, trying to wrap her mind around this. Martha just looked at her, speaking very slowly.   
“Eliza, look at me.” She reached out and coaxed the taller’s hands into hers, squeezing them so that Eliza’s eyes lifted to meet hers. Martha let her face be calm as she carefully spoke her next words. 

“I think something is going on between Alex and Thomas…” 

**

Washington quietly placed his quill down on top of his parchment, finishing. He leaned slowly back in his chair, watching the glistening ink dry in the flickering candlelight. For a moment he just… sat there, staring. 

It was so strange to him to think that this was all the work that he had to do tonight. Of course, there were mountains of planning ahead, but with the Compromise, things were settled. Tomorrow would not be another tedious battle of Jefferson or Hamilton, Jefferson or Hamilton. Their largest dilemma had been solved and now… everything could fall together. 

George’s eyes subconsciously found their way back to James Madison, the smaller man writing slowly and deliberately on his parchment. The way he lifted his quill carefully between each word. George’s eyes softened. There was no doubt that he had been thinking.

He had been thinking a lot since the Compromise. With the end of his term coming soon, and the upcoming Cabinet meeting to officially establish the decisions made in the compromise…. He had been thinking. 

After a few moments, James breathed in deeply, stirring in his seat and rubbing his eyes sleepily. When he blinked his blurred eyes, he noticed that George had been watching him tenderly. James managed a weak smile, setting his quill down quietly on his own desk that had been put in Washington’s home a while back. Neither one really remembered what the room looked like without it there. 

“Strange, isn’t it?” James nodded feebly at his work, and then looking back to George, “Weeks of fighting and now it’s all wrapped up so neatly.” he spoke as if it wasn’t fully comprehending in his head, not yet. 

George smiled softly, “Like a ribbon.” he crossed his arms, letting it sink in a bit. They were quiet for some time.

James exhaled, and something in his breathing hitched, causing his hand to reach to his handkerchief like second nature. He pulled it out and began to cough. 

George stood carefully from his desk and walked towards him, the routine had become common a long time ago. George stopped before him, kneeling down to find James’s hand and squeeze it silently. Coughing rang through the house as the fit continued, and it broke George’s heart. 

When James had finally finished, he looked exhausted. Eyes watering from the coughing, he looked down at Washington, blinking.   
“A breath of fresh air?” he rasped quietly, and the President's heart panged. George nodded, standing up and squeezing his hand once more.  
“Of course.” he smiled comfortingly to his partner, who leaned on his grip to stand.   
And George was thinking again.

The two exited the study into the summer night, the buzzing of cicadas filling their ears and contrasting with the silence of inside. Washington's gardens consisted of a short, winding flower walk that only took a few pleasant moments to stroll through. Many a time had the two done this together after James had a fit, no matter if it had woken them in the middle of the night. George would walk with him outside, slowly and carefully as James held his hand and leaned into him. 

Their feet crunched quietly on the packed gravel as they walked, making their way around the fragrant flowers whose petals were pale with starlight. 

James looked up at him as they strolled, knowing that something was on George’s mind without even seeing his face.  
“What is it, George?” He inquired, “Is something troubling you?” 

George didn’t respond but for a short chuckle. There was a bit of a pause before he spoke again, thinking of his response.   
“Perhaps the contrary.”   
James hesitated, thinking of what to say. 

“What do you mean?” He asked simply, pressing closer to George as they rounded a bend. The President just took a deep breath, drinking in the night air and letting it go whilst he thought very carefully. 

“I… have been taking some time to think, James.” He began slowly, feeling his way through how he wanted to say this.   
“About us, actually.” He nodded curtly, as resolute as ever as they strolled.

“We’ve always talked about settling down. Getting our own place in Virginia. Just for you and I, you remember?” 

“Of course.” James managed weakly, many questions bursting to get out but he had neither the strength nor the energy to let them do so. George squeezed his hand lovingly, turning his face towards the stars as they turned another bend, nearing the end of the walk. 

“And with the end of my term approaching, and the Cabinet dispute all coming to resolve, I think perhaps it’s time we settled down.”   
The path had looped back to the house and finished, but James stopped them and turned to George, looking up at the man in shock.

“You mean to say…?” he breathed.  
“Yes.” George spoke softly, taking James’s other hand and nodding solemnly. James just looked at the ground, thinking hard. 

“Who could possibly take your place?” he whispered. There was a pause for a few moments. Because both men already knew the answer.  
It was as clear as the moon hovering above their own heads. 

“But he’s so young.” James breathed, shaking his head.   
“And are we not?”   
“Yes, but… twenty?” 

“He knows what he is doing, James. He is intelligent; he wields power with ambition and skill. His youth will only make him more worthy to be President.” George reasoned, with himself as much as with James. 

“And you…. Are certain this is what you want?” the shorter man rasped, leaning against George for support. The President had been having this battle in his head for far longer than this moment, and now was the time he would have to finally produce an answer. To be President or to be with James… 

And looking into those light eyes, so young and yet so tired, he did know the answer. It was obvious. So obvious.  
“This is what I want.” He spoke quietly, squeezing James’s hands.   
“If you want it, I am all in, James. We can pick out a ring together tomorrow, just the two of us. I know it wouldn’t be public but we would know it, and that’s truly the only part that matters.” 

“It is.” James whispered. He had been longing for this moment for a long… long time. He knew George had been too. 

The President wrapped him closer into his arms, letting the weary man lean in.  
“Everything will be fine.” He breathed, holding him. The two were still for a while. George could feel the stress in James's body just by holding him.

“Would you like me to help you relieve some of the stress? Or we can head to sleep now.”   
James looked up at him from the embrace, smiling softly.

“No… I would like that.” he whispered, taking George’s hand once more as the taller man led him inside and to their bedroom. 

Their lovemaking was tender and soft. George was always so very gentle with the man he loved, so attentive to exactly what he needed, exactly the pace he needed. Always a whisper of how beautiful he is and how much he loves him, and James could, for a rare few minutes, just let himself breathe and let go. Let the rocking motion of the man he trusted more than anyone else take him away.

And they were asleep only moments after they finished, James curled exhaustedly in George’s arms. The windows were open in their humble home, shutters pulled wide so that the summer night could sleep with them too. Just them, and the lullaby of the crickets and cicadas soothing them to sleep. The President and the Congressman before a Cabinet meeting, locked under those titles one last time. 

**

Laughter rang through the forest.   
“That is NOT it.” Thomas wheezed covering his face with a hand.  
“Hey, that was close!” Alexander cleared his throat, concentrating, and tried again. He produced a feeble little growling noise that sounded a lot like a baby tiger. Thomas just burst out laughing once more, making Alex even more annoyed. The little one shot him a glare. 

“Alright, big shot, how do you do it, then?” he asked as the path curved around a mossy and lichen-covered boulder. It was before sunrise, and Thomas had had to drag sleeping Alexander by the scruff of his neck the first five minutes of the walk home. Thomas put his nose cockily in the air, placing his hands in his pockets. 

“It’s not something I can teach, Alexander. It’s an instinct.”   
“Instinct, my ass. That’s impossible.” Alexander scoffed, “As of now, I don’t even know where the fuck it’s coming from.”   
Thomas just enjoyed a smug look on his arrogant face.   
“Deep in my chest. Only happens when you’re being a little bitch.” He smoothed his perfect hair back, “You’re lucky you get a warning to back down, Alexander. To know when you’re pushing your luck with me.” 

Alex squinted, evaluating things very carefully for a moment. And then he remembered.   
“Noooo, I’ve heard you do it in public too.” he recalled vaguely, pointing at Thomas, “Yes. I definitely have. Explain that one.” 

Thomas nodded slowly in recognition, head still loftily in the air.   
“When another man gets too close to you. It happens.” He spoke the plain, naked truth, curious to see Alexander’s reaction. The little man hopped in front of him on the path, walking backwards so he could look Thomas head on in the face. 

He gaped, jaw dropping to his chest.   
“You’re fucking kidding!” Alex exclaimed, smile spreading across his face. 

“I can't believe we're still talking about this. What, you like that notion?” Thomas questioned, cocking an eyebrow at his partner.   
“Uhhh, duh.” Alex scoffed obviously gesturing with his hand. The little one was positively DRINKING this in, and Thomas would amuse him for a bit longer with the truth. 

He took a deep, satisfied breath of the outdoors.  
“It’s a territorial thing, Alexander.” He spoke elegantly, linking his hands behind his back as he strolled like a leisurely king, “As a dominant, my sub is part of my territory. And I won’t have anyone coming too close to my things. So a rumble should be enough warning for a man to back off of my sub. And promptly.” Thomas explained simply, admiring the view. 

“Or what?” Alexander almost tripped over a root but Thomas caught him, lifting him to his side once more.   
“Hm?”   
“Or what? What happens if they don’t back away from me?” Alexander coaxed, wanting to bask in the overly-possessive attitude of the cocky prick, relishing it. 

“Well, that’s where my naturally forgiving nature seems to wear off, Alexander.” Thomas spoke evenly. Alex snorted out loud.   
“Naturally forgiving. I don’t know who the fuck told you that.” Alex snickered, and Thomas smacked him on the back of the head, literally just proving Alex’s point there. 

“You know, Thomas, for such a high class, uptown snob, you are the most sexually primitive person I know.”   
“I had better be, Alexander. And call me a snob one more time and I’ll make sure you know not to do so again.” 

Alex laughed and swayed into his tall partner, nuzzling into him as Thomas wrapped an arm protectively around his waist while they walked.   
The sun was hinting at coming up soon, but as of now it was still mostly dark in the peaceful woods. Alexander would never be up at this time; on his days off he would sleep until noon. But today was not a day off. They would have to savor their last moments in it right now when the rest of the day would toss them right back into the politics and business of the City. 

Because today there was a Cabinet meeting. And the two of them had to be prepared. 

**

The two lovers stood just around the corner from the Cabinet room, Alexander peeking on the other side of it. Thomas’s head appeared above his, the tall man’s voice rumbling behind him.   
“Move your ass, Alexander, I’m going in first.” 

The little one scoffed, “Hey dipshit, don’t fucking push me.” Alex wedged his way back to the corner, scowling at Thomas.   
“Why the hell should I have to wait?”   
Thomas turned his face down to Alexander, rolling his eyes irritably, “Because, darling, we’re not going in together and if anyone’s going in first it’s me.” He sneered, shoving past Alexander, “I don’t want everyone angry before the meeting even starts thanks to you.” 

Alexander stood in his place and watched Thomas breeze by with a scowl. The taller man walked backwards for a few steps, giving him a cocky, playboy wink before twitching his eyebrows smugly at him and walking forth. He straightened his cuffs arrogantly as he glided into the room. 

“Bitch.” Alexander spat, leaning against the wall as he counted a few seconds. Thomas never said how LONG he had to wait, and the stubborn little immigrant wasn’t one to ignore loopholes. After about thirty seconds, he swaggered up to the guards posted there and sauntered into the room, proud nose in the air. 

Eyes all around the bustling, buzzing room all landed on him at once, turning to people next to them and talking. Surely, he, Thomas, and Madison were the talk of the town here today; rumors spread quickly in the Cabinet. Everyone probably had their own version of varying degrees of the Compromise. Alexander just drank it in and ignored them at the same time, strolling through the bodies to find his usual desk near the front. 

He placed his briefcase up on it, smiling and humming contentedly while he set out his papers and removing his hat. The Treasurer sorted through the parchment he would be needing when something else caught his eye in his case. Casting a quick glance around the room to make sure nobody was over his shoulder, Alexander looked back at the paper, squinting.

But somebody was watching him. Looming quietly from the other side of the room, Aaron Burr monitored his every expression with careful attention. 

It wasn’t his handwriting, Alex realized. It was neat and deliberate, almost way too perfect in a roll-your-eyes kind of way. Oh.

“Ohh….shit….” Alexander breathed, quickly stuffing it down to the very, very bottom of his work case. It was a letter from Thomas, one from a while ago demanding that he come to his house after work. Alex glanced around again, feeling uneasy that it was even in the room. Burr squinted at the reaction, something stirring deep in his slimy chest... 'What are you up to, Alexander Hamilton?', he thought with a grin.

“Alex.” A voice snapped quietly, hissing. Alexander looked up, caught off guard, and saw Thomas’s back turned, but the man was talking out of the corner of his mouth to him.  
“Yeah-”  
“ShH-! Don’t make it so damn obvious.” Thomas cut him off, whisper shouting through annoyed, clenched teeth.   
“Sorry.” Alex grumbled, rolling his eyes as he turned his gaze back to the desk.

“Why did you come in? I said wait, you moron.”   
“I did wait. Thirty seconds, ‘you moron’.” Alexander quoted him, mocking his deep voice.   
Thomas rolled his head back slightly, forcing himself to hold his temper, “God give me strength, Alexander, I will fucking throttle you.” he growled trying to hold himself back. Alex just laughed softly through his nose. 

“Bite me, bitch. We’re in a Cabinet meeting, I’d like to see you try.”   
“Don’t do it, Alexander.” Thomas warned shaking his head, “Don’t push it.”   
“I’ll take my chances.” Alexander snorted. Thomas didn’t even get the chance to growl at him before the hammer sounded clearly through the room, its banging making the voices in the room fall into a hush.

George Washintgon set the wooden hammer back town with a clunk, clearing his throat grandiloquently.   
“Gentlemen, welcome. I would like to call this assembly to order; now would you all please take your seats.” 

Muffled voices hummed again as chairs screeched back and papers shuffled, everyone getting settled.   
Thomas exhaled, shaking his head very slowly, “Ooh, you lucked out, Alexander.” he seethed, stepping stiffly away from Alex’s desk and strutting towards his own. Alex only snickered at his good timing; Thomas was totally going to beat his ass later. 

From the other side of the room, Burr watched the exchange between the two very closely, slowly sitting down and smoothing out his coat. 

“Thank you.” Washington’s voice resounded once again, hushing the room. He looked down over a couple sheets of parchment and then back up.   
“If Senator Burr would please stand and read the minutes of our latest Cabinet assembly.” He spoke, leaning back in his seat and folding his hands on his waistcoat.

Alex wanted to curl his lip at the mention. Burr was still here? Why the fuck was Burr still here?   
The greasy man stood up, smiling cunningly like he had just been inaugurated for President and began reading off of his own long, detailed sheet of parchment. What a fucking pathetic joke. 

Knowing this was going to take a while, and knowing that he was bored as shit, Alexander lazily slid out a sheet of paper and started to write, grumbling to himself. And then he had an idea. If you could call it that.

Unable to hold back a childish snicker, he began to write feverishly, quill scratching rapidly on the sheet. He stuck his tongue out of the corner of the mouth as he concentrated, writing everything down. This was too good, too fucking good. When he had finally finished, nearly three quarters of the page was full. 

Alexander looked up from his work and glanced around the room excitedly, holding back his smile. When he finally saw a guard, he tossed his head to catch his eye and beckoned the kid forward. At first, he looked around, confused, but Alexander just waved him forth annoyedly. 

“Y-yes sir?” He stammered nervously.  
“Bring this to Secretary Jefferson.” Alex ordered, handing him the note which he took with reluctance.  
“But… notes aren’t permitted during-”  
“Did I ask?” Alex interrupted rudely, “Go.” 

The guard just swallowed and hesitantly and set off, walked around the edge of the room to Thomas’s desk; nobody seemed to pay any attention to him. Alexander watched out of the corner of his eye the whole time, boredom long gone. 

Thomas looked confused and inconvenienced when the guard tapped on his shoulder, scowling in annoyance as he turned the note over and unfolded it. Alex grinned. 

He only read the first line before his head darted up, shooting a razor-sharp glare to Alexander. The little one just smirked widely, and nodded to the note as if to say, “continue.” Thomas shook his head incredulously, completely in disbelief that Alex had sent him a note during a Cabinet meeting. 

Still scowling at him for a moment, Thomas returned his eyes to the note. This was the part that Alex would enjoy most. As the Virginian’s eyes made their way down the paper, they gradually widened with shock. Thomas’s tongue darted over his lips, wetting them, and Alexander saw his breathing visibly speed up.

After scanning over the note a second time, Thomas lifted his head to look at Alexander. The man was positively LIVID. His dark brows were knitted with outrage as he clenched his hand into a fist, knuckles cracking. Alexander beamed, struggling not to snort out loud at the fact that he had written Thomas Jefferson a disgustingly detailed sex note at work, containing the most dirty things he could come up with. And that was saying something. 

Thomas shifted his weight slightly in his seat, uncomfortable. It was so subtle, but Alexander knew exactly what was going on; he had succeeded. He looked from Thomas’s face, to his lap and back with a knowing smirk.

Thomas took a very… deep breath, face becoming icily calm as he stared at Alexander.   
“I’m going to kill you.” He mouthed cooly to Alex, stuffing the note in his coat pocket. Alexander winked back, shuffling down in his seat arrogantly and turning back to the front of the room. 

Burr finally came to a close and nodded to the President, tossing his coattails behind him as he sat back down.   
“Thank you, Senator Burr.” George returned the nod and faced the rest of the assembly, clearing his throat once more. 

“Before we begin our work today I would like to introduce the topic of discussion and give a clear definition of what we will be looking at; I am sure that you all have your own versions of this matter and would like to present the ordeal in its correct form.” 

Washington cast a glance that landed on Thomas, Alexander, and James. 

“Mr. Madison. Secretary Jefferson. Secretary Hamilton.” He addressed. “Would you take the floor, gentlemen.” 

Thomas’s eyes glinted Alexander’s way before he stood from his seat. And Burr watched on like a hawk, smirk flickering across his face. 

**

Everyone was working in small groups on their new assignments, most of them quiet and respectable except for Alexander’s as per usual. Thomas cast another annoyed glance over there, Alexander standing and giving orders noisily, of course micromanaging everything everyone was doing.

James Madison was over there taking notes from Alexander on the material to present in the House, and he looked over at Thomas exasperatedly. The frail man just sighed and shrugged at him before returning to his papers. Holy fuck, Alexander had it coming, Thomas thought, shaking his head and returning to the group he was in charge of.

Washington had been supervising and making corrections as he flowed through, but he made his way back to his dais and called for everyone’s attention with the hammer again. 

“Thank you all for your time today, gentlemen. As usual, the date for our next assembly will be mailed to you promptly. Continue with your assignments; I call this meeting to closure.” Washington sniffed, banging the hammer once and beginning to collect his papers. 

Thomas collected his things as well, reviewing deadlines with the men around him. Alexander could be heard doing the same in a much more boisterous way, forcing Thomas to clench his jaw. He’d forgotten how fucking insufferable Alexander was at work, where the immigrant had the power more so than when it was just him and Jefferson, and Thomas could freely beat his ass. 

Thomas needed to remind him who was always in charge here.   
“Good evening, gentlemen.” Thomas nodded as he excused himself slipping out of the group and strutting up to Alexanders. The tall man cleared his throat and raised his chin in the air. 

“Secretary Hamilton.” He spoke, southern accent completely vanished under an impeccable northern one, “A word.” 

Alexander turned his head slowly to Thomas, scowling.   
“Can I help you, Mr. Secretary?” Alex emphasized his address with disrespect, Thomas just smiled tightly, his dark eyes finding Alex’s and telling him exactly what was going to happen.   
“Yes. A word. Now.” He clipped through clenched teeth.

At this point, Alexander realized that he was in serious trouble. He was in deep shit. 

“Fine.” He grumbled, picking up his work case and placing his hat on his head disgruntledly while Thomas grinned to the rest of the group.   
“Gentlemen.” He nodded deeply to them as he departed, Alexander poutily in tow. 

“What the fuck, dickhead.” Alex hissed to Thomas while they breezed through the Cabinet room, exiting out into the hallway. Thomas didn’t answer, but strode down the hall and veered to the right, NOT the direction to leave the building. 

“Where’re we goi- HEY-”  
As soon as they had turned the corner out of sight, Thomas had rounded on him, grabbing his ear and dragging him down the hallway by it. 

“Let go of me!” Alexander snarled, unable to even twist away as Thomas pulled him. The taller man didn’t even respond, just glided hastily to an un-decorated door and yanked it open with a growl, jerking Alexander inside. It was dim in there, but a few candles illuminated the two-doored broom closet fairly well. 

The little man stumbled and fell into the other wall, snarling as Thomas slammed the door behind him.   
“Alexander Hamilton!” he roared, putting an extreme amount of faith in the insulation of the room. 

“What?” Alex sneered, standing up straight and daring Thomas to come a step closer.   
“What? What?!” Thomas repeated, shaking his head as he bore down on Alex, shoving him.   
“How DARE you send me something so obscene,” he spat, “You have some fucking nerve, boy, are you TRYING to make me beat the living shit out of you?!” 

“I can do whatever the hell I want, bastard.” Alexander shoved him right back, throwing his palms against the larger man’s chest. Thomas barely moved at all except to round on him, bringing them both crashing to the wall and pinning Alexander’s shoulders violently. 

“You have three seconds to SHUT your whore mouth, on fucking God.” Thomas seethed through gritted teeth, shaking his head dangerously, "I don't know what's gotten into you but you seemed to have forgotten who the FUCK you're talking to." 

His dark eyes bored into Alexander’s, full of that lusty, icy threat that Alexander so fucking craved. Their faces were so close together that their breath mingled, Thomas’s full lips almost brushing his own. 

Eyes still locked on his boyfriend’s he felt that slow, curl of heat pool in his belly. He really couldn't help himself, could he? 

“Fucking make me.” Alex whispered, baring his canines right back at Thomas.   
Alexander couldn’t help but start some trouble. He loved a little danger, hell, a lot of danger, and there was no shortage in stock when it came to Jefferson. Alexander WAS trouble. Always had been. And he was starving for his lover, his enemy, famished. 

Thomas screwed up his mouth and shoved down on the Treasurer’s shoulders, forcing him brutally to the ground exactly how Alex liked it. His knees hit the floor with a thud, making him cry out. Thomas only did what Alex knew was coming to him, and slapped him sharply across the mouth.

“SHUT up.” Thomas spat in fury, ramming the little man’s shoulders into the wall with his knees now, making Alex fall back against the hard surface. 

“Fuck you! You’re not SHIT, Jefferson.”   
Thomas responded by striking out a hand and grasping Alexander’s throat, not bothering to play gentle with his nails.   
“Yeah? That’s not what you were moaning last night, fucker.” He increased his grip, making Alexander’s eyes water in frustration, “And what part of ‘shut the fuck up’ do you not understand?” He snarled, meeting the little one’s fiery glower. 

For a moment, Thomas just held him there, scanning him up and down in decision. So many punishments and not enough time. Thomas had to teach Alexander a lesson here and now, that was already established. He simply could not keep acting up when they were at work and then playing the angel at home. They both knew that Alexander was acting up. 

Thomas nodded his head and spoke very evenly despite his flaring eyes, “Give me your belt, Alexander.” he whispered darkly. 

Alex’s heart swooped into his throat and his breathing hitched. Woah… This seemed almost unreal. Thomas was seriously going to beat him IN the assembly building for misbehaving, and he was going to do it with Alexander’s belt, just to subtly increase the shame. The little one couldn’t stop his cock from twitching needily at this whole surreal idea. Holy shit... 

Thomas extended his hand, palm open as Alexander glared right into his eyes. The Treasurer’s hands moved down to lift up his shirt, unbuckling his belt slowly while Thomas watched his every move, a dark threat in his eyes. How did the Virginian know EXACTLY how to make Alexander his submissive little whore with five words? 

Alex gradually slipped it out of his belt loops, lowering his eyes furiously as he folded the leather thing in his hand, offering it up to Thomas.   
The Virginian laughed mockingly through his nose as Alex placed it in his hand.

“Thank you, love.” he purred, taking it as the buckle jingled. He turned it over in his hand a couple of times, taunting Alexander. The little one only emitted the most threatening growl he could muster, making Thomas sneer. 

“Get up.” He leered, yanking Alexander’s hair and forcing his sub to squeal and obey his orders.   
Alexander hissed under his breath. 

“Turn around, bitch.” Thomas spat, “Pants down.” Adrenaline was already pulsing through Alex’s veins as he frustratedly yanked down his breeches, shame and ferocity burning red in his face.

“Faster, fucking Christ I don’t have time for this.” Thomas rolled his eyes, jingling the belt menacingly, shaking it to make Alex work faster. And--fuck-- he DID.

“All trained up, I see.” Thomas laughed, amused at how Alexander responded to the sound of the buckle, “Having déjà-vu, are we sweetheart?”   
“Just shut up, Thomas.” Alex raised his voice, frustrated with his dom, wanting to feel the strike of the belt on his ass so badly. 

And his wish was granted.   
Alexander yelped and jumped forward, shocked by the stinging, white hot pain across his cheek. He groaned through clenched teeth, squeezing his eyes shut. 

“I have NO words, Alexander Hamilton.” He seethed lividly, “No fucking words for how badly you’re asking for it.” Thomas squeezed Alex’s belt, turning it over once more and scanning Alexander’s backside. 

“Hands on the wall.” He sneered, “now.”  
Alexander was stuck, as he usually was. He wanted the punishment so badly, but he didn’t want to listen to that bastard. Unfortunately, he couldn’t have one without the other. 

With shaking arms, he lifted them at head-level and pressed them to the wall, now in a submissive position of helplessness.   
“Good boy.” Thomas praised, running his fingertips lightly down Alexander’s spine, making the little one shudder and shiver defenselessly.   
“Aw.” Thomas clucked his tongue smirking as he pulled his hand back and let the leather whip his skin. 

A smack rang through the small space, and Alexander breathed in sharply, trying his best not to moan. A pathetic whimper was enough as he closed his eyes, forcing himself to take deep breaths.   
“Haaahhh…” He exhaled shakily, balling up and then extending his fingers against the wall. 

Thomas hummed, watching his every reaction with rapture.  
“Good boy, staying nice and quiet for me.” He struck him again, the immigrant jerking at the lash and biting his lip to suppress a deep, throaty moan. 

“Shit…” He hissed, biting his lip so hard that the tangy, metallic taste of blood pricked his tongue. He whined.   
The buckle clinked as the belt swayed in his dominant’s hand. The two of them were having far too much pleasure with this. Far too much, but neither one cared. 

Alexander shifted his weight, leaning against the wall and bracing himself for another blow.   
And that was when Alexander heard it.

The Treasurer, pricked up and pressed his head against the wall, ear to the wood as he listened extremely closely. 

The deep, faint vibration was rhythmic and fast. And it was getting louder. 

“Thomas, stop.” Alexander spoke, urgency already in his voice whilst panic bubbled in his chest, “Red.” Alex lifted his head from the wall.   
Thomas immediately dropped his threatening stance, brows furrowing in concern and moving towards Alex.

“What is it, love? Are you alright?” he responded with utmost concern and respect for the safeword, wondering if he had hurt his partner; although, that was highly unlikely, he was always very precise with the amount of harshness he used. 

“Alexander?-”  
“No, no I’m fine, it’s not me, It’s,” Alex’s heart plummeted. He could hear the footsteps out loud now. They were getting closer and closer. Holy shit.

“Somebody’s coming, Thomas, you need to get out.” Alexander tried to yank up his pants, working frantically to get them back on. Thomas caught onto it now; he could hear it too. Oh fuck they were both going to get caught; it deluged down on him like a bucket of arctic water.

Thomas cast a glance to the door on the other side of the closet that led to the parallel hallway on the other side of the building, and then back to Alex.

“Alexander, no.” He shook his head firmly, grasping his partner’s arm in his hand, “I’m not leaving you here, come on.” He yanked, but Alexander held his ground, “Come ON!” He growled, panic rising so quickly he could hear his heart thudding. Or was that the footsteps. 

Alexander knew. Somehow, he knew. It was Burr. This was all happening so suddenly. Why did this have to be happening? 

“No,” Alex wrenched his arms free shaking his head urgently, “They already know somebody’s in here and they can’t see US. I’m not fucking joking Thomas, PLEASE.” He begged, trying not to let tears fill his eyes.   
“Thomas, please. Go.”

The Virginian had a hand on the doorknob and his lips were parted. Time seemed to slow to a stop, like the whole universe had slimmed down to this little broom closet.

Thomas’s chest rose and fell rapidly, his eyes were brimming with terror and a tortured decision. The footsteps were outside of the door now.

“GO!” Alexander pleaded, voice cracking. Thomas squeezed his eyes shut in anguish and wrenched the door handle, opening it and whirling out in a flurry of fabric. All in the same moment, the door closed, the other one opened, and Alexander's head snapped around to view the man before him. 

Squinting from the light, Alexander’s heart thudded in his chest. A tall, dark figure loomed above him, and as his eyes adjusted, he could just see a greasy smile spread across the ratlike face. 

“Alexander.” The slimy voice purred, eyes casting a glance to Alexander’s messily pulled up breeches and belt on the floor. His messy, hatless hair. 

“Now where, might I ask, is Mr. Jefferson?”


	38. Legacy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alexander makes a mistake that will cost him... and Burr brings it straight to Thomas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ❗️NOBODY PANIC❗️ Things will get better, so I hope you lovely readers will stick with me here. I love you all so much for all of your support! :D <3

Alexander stood starkly in front of Burr, eyes squinted in the sudden light. He couldn’t move. His feet were screwed to the ground and his breath was stuck in his throat.  
“...I” He sputtered, heart thudding so sharply in his chest that it was physically hurting him. Alexander was a deer in headlights. He was trapped. 

Burr just laughed lightly through his nose in a condescending manner, folding his hands in front of him; the horrible man clucked his tongue.  
“Did I catch you at a bad time, Alexander?” he purred, blocking the doorway, “Having a little…” he looked up and around, “meeting in the broom closet.” 

Alexander’s eyes had filled with spots so all he could see was right in front of him; his vision was nothing but Burr, the man was closing in on him, consuming him with his towering presence. Breathe, breathe, goddamnit, say something!  
“I… It’s none of your fucking business, bastard.” Alexander managed, sounding far more timid than he meant to sound. He cleared his throat desperately.  
“Piss off.” He snarled. 

Burr just straightened up and sighed, shaking his head very slowly. His dark eyes locked onto Alexander’s.  
“I’m afraid, Alexander, that if you were doing something…” he smirked, “Illegal. That would not be possible.” 

Alexander tried to hold his ground, don’t break eye contact, don’t give anything away. But Burr drank in every single moment of Alexander's vulnerability, the fiery little politician completely helpless for the first time in his pathetic little life. He had been waiting for this moment… for longer than he could possibly imagine. 

Alexander shook his head, raising his chin.  
“What the fuck are you even talking about? You can’t prove anything, you steaming pile of horseshit.” he pointed sharply at him, seeming to gain a piece of confidence now. Because he was right and he knew that he was.

Burr interlaced his fingers, staring calmly at him, “Maybe so. But I already know, Alexander. I figured it out.” The man began to step towards the little immigrant torturously slowly, looming over him like prey. “You lose…” 

Alex gulped and took one step back, almost stumbling. His heart plummeted into his stomach, adrenaline pumping icily in his veins. Burr had figured it out. But... how?  
This was scaring him. He was scared. 

“Your little slip about your ‘arrangement’ with Jefferson.” he began, bearing down, “And that loose-lipped little squealer that you call a best friend telling me all about your affair. You didn’t think I’d put two and two together?” Burr sneered, his lofty, mocking air turning over to reveal a darker underbelly, a filthy, rotting reality. 

Alexander stepped back again, and now he was in the closet, tripping backwards and stumbling over his work case. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t fucking breathe; Burr was sucking all of the air out of the room. That was when Alexander started to panic.

“You think I didn’t see your note? Your glances? Your hidden conversations?” Burr’s voice began to raise ever so gradually with ever word, nothing but his voice in Alexander’s ears.  
“You think I don’t see your BELT on the floor, your DISGUSTING hair?!” Burr barked now, spitting on Alex’s face. The little one’s chest was fluttering with rapid breaths, his limbs were shaking. 

He tried to take another step backwards but he flinched; he had hit the back wall of the closet. His head whipped from side to side. There was no. Way. Out. He was panicking, he was trapped. 

“You LOSE, Hamilton.” Burr stepped forth, his hot breath falling nastily on Alex’s face, making him turn his head. In a jerking motion, Burr seized the shoulders of Alex’s waistcoat, shoving him to the wall.  
“And you will NEVER see the inside of a Cabinet room again.” Burr’s slimy breath stroked Alexander’s face. "God, how long I've waited..."  
This couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t be real.

And everything began to flash in front of the Treasurer’s eyes; he squeezed them shut. In a single moment, everything became surreal, his mind whirling with a raging hurricane of images.

Every moment with Thomas, an echoing of warm laughter, a heavy arm around his waist, gentle fingers brushing his cheek, it was all there.The warmth of a hug, the exhilarating kiss of the lake’s cool waters… It all fell away…  
The sound of a violin quartet filled his head. 

“You will be nothing, Hamilton. Your legacy is finished.”  
The rain on his face, the scent of roses… 

“You… lose…” It echoed.

The strings grew louder and louder. Alexander squeezed his eyes shut with agony. He couldn’t think, he couldn’t breathe, he was suffocating. He could smell the far off Caribbean, a filthy little island of slaves and suffering. He could feel a legacy between his fingers. And now the sound was deafening, he shut his eyes so tightly against it. Can’t breathe, can’t breathe, can’t breathe…! 

“Thomas made me do it!” 

Silence. The words rang off of the walls.

And all of the sound fell away. The scents, the swirling hurricane of feelings settled like dust in the rubble.  
Quiet. There was absolutely nothing but his breathing. Nothingness… 

“What?” Burr sneered quietly. 

Alexander’s heart fluttered in his ribcage, but he couldn’t feel anything; his whole body was completely numb. One word echoed in his head, fading in and out. 

Legacy... Legacy… Legacy… 

“Thomas....” he spoke, shakily. It wasn’t his voice. It wasn’t him talking, “Made me do it. I-I have proof, in the briefcase.” 

Someone else was saying this; it wasn’t him, it couldn’t possibly be him. His heart screamed, screamed at him to listen, thudded in his ribs like it was trying to tear itself out. This was wrong. This was wrong and every part of him knew it, every part of him screamed for him to stop. 

But he only watched as Burr kept his eyes locked on his, reaching slowly.. Slowly down for his briefcase. He clicked it open, shuffling until he found the thick, waxy seal of the Jefferson family.

This was all wrong. Alexander wanted to shut his eyes, make it all fall away, it couldn’t be real. He only knew one thing, ONE thing in this wretched world and it was that he loved Thomas. He loved Thomas Jefferson. And it wasn’t coming through, it wouldn't, it would NOT comprehend that Alexander was tossing him under the wheel, throwing him on the sword. He couldn’t think… 

“He made me do it, and I used it to my advantage.” Alex spoke, so impossibly shakily as Burr’s snakelike eyes scanned over the letter, taking in every word of Thomas’s commanding language. His brute orders for Alexander to come to his house without question. 

“I...It’s how I got him to make the Compromise, but the banks- the banks, I’m keeping them in New York, Burr, would I do that if I wanted to stay involved with Jefferson?” Alex searched for more, “And- and I tried to break things off with him after it was signed and done. The NIGHT after.” 

Everything fell right into place. It was almost… far too perfect. And Alexander hated it. Every part of him cried, sobbed at him to stop it. But he simply couldn’t. He could feel the legacy between his fingers… 

Burr didn’t answer, just scanned the letter carefully over again. Then, ever so slowly, he raised his eyes to Alexander. The little man swallowed, anguished tears pricking at the corner of his eyes. 

“Seems a shame to not tell poor Mr. Jefferson of this ghastly betrayal.” Burr shook his head in mock sympathy, folding the letter carefully between his slimy fingers, the parchment crinkling. Alexander could only watch helplessly. 

“You’re pathetic, Hamilton. He must think you stayed back to protect HIM.” Burr laughed through his nose patronizingly and gave Alex a little tut-tut-tut, pocketing the folded square of paper inside his coat.  
“He will be quite surprised to hear that you only did it to save yourself.” Burr spat the last word, and laughed, genuinely laughed. Alex shook his head. 

“Don’t you dare-”  
“And I wonder where dear Thomas is now; the Treasury department, perhaps?” Burr cut him off, hand still shuffling in his coat to pull out something rusty and metal that jingled. He smirked, “There to protect your things?” Alex only understood what the item was when he heard a jingle and then a click beside him. Burr had locked the back door. 

Alexander’s head was spinning, he couldn’t see, his ears were roaring with the rushing sound of his blood. His limbs wouldn’t fucking work.  
Burr began to step backwards, backing towards the door all while keeping his dark eyes trained on his nemesis. Before Alexander could do anything, he was in the doorframe, silhouette outlined sharply by the light. 

The man just stared at him and shook his head slowly. 

“How long I’ve waited to see the look on your face…” 

“No.” Alexander spoke, lips numb. The whirling winds of his mind stirred and picked up again, howling in his ears. He lurched forward, trying to move.  
A wide, sinister grin spread across Burr’s greasy face. He backed up out of the room, placing his hand on the door. 

“NO!” Alexander screamed, ripping his voice to shreds as he lunged for the door, snapping out of his trance. But he was too late, Burr slammed the door closed and jammed the key into the hole, letting it click shut, locked. 

Alex’s fist hit the back of the door, making his knuckles crack with the impact. He rammed into it with his shoulder, the wood reverberating as he hit it.  
“Bastard!” he screamed, screwing up his lips and punching the door once again, the pain lacing and shooting up his entire arm. 

“Nng!” He choked out a wounded noise, bringing his fist close to his body and holding onto his forearm in pure pain. He saw sparks in his eyes as tears began to fall, doing the best he could to breathe and cradle his fist. He backed up a bit and roared, slamming his shoulder into the door once more with a snarl. The wood didn’t give in the slightest, and Alexander didn’t care. 

“Augh! Augh! Augh!” He grunted, voice cracking as he hammered his shoulder into it three more times. Absolutely nothing. 

Still leaning against the door, he began to realize that there was no getting out of there. He was trapped… and he was going to have to wait.  
Alex turned around, putting his back to the wood and letting the back of his head slam against it, finally letting loose a choked, guttural sob that racked his whole body. 

The small man slid… so slowly down the door, crumbling to his knees in defeat to the floor. He tried to breathe but he couldn’t control it; it was coming in and out in sharp, painful gasps between sobs. He choked once more, looking up to the ceiling and letting his tears slip out of the corner of his eyes into his hair. 

What had he done? 

For a long time he was silent. His body shook with the sobs, but he was quiet. 

He could only think of one thing now. And it wasn’t his legacy. It wasn’t his bloody stupid, fucking, goddamn legacy. He squeezed his eyes shut and tears leaked out. Why… oh WHY did he have to realize it now that his legacy didn’t matter. It didn’t fucking matter.

Slowly, he lifted his violently shaking hands to his face, letting them block out everything around him. Wet pearls slipped through his fingers and his sniffled.

Even the first time, in the first time he had fucked up and pushed Thomas away he didn’t truly realize. He never truly understood how… IGNORANT he had been. And now he finally got it. He finally got it through his thick fucking head. 

It didn’t matter that he was a genius; it didn’t matter that he was the Treasurer or a general or any of it. None of it mattered. Because he had to be the most stupid fucking bastard alive to betray Thomas Jefferson.

Only now did he truly understand that… 

**

Thomas burst into a sprint as soon as he had turned the corner of the hallway where Alexander’s office was, tripping on the carpet. He caught himself and kept running, coming up to the walnut door and skidding to a stop in front of it. The Virginian was panting now; he had run all the way down the street from the assembly building to here. 

“Come on come on come ON!” he wrapped his strong hand around the handle and jerked to no avail. He jiggled it a few times, mouth screwed up in frustration.  
“Fuck!” He whisper shouted, trying to think of a solution. Just think; this is what he was good at. 

Thomas got the idea within an instant, reaching inside a very small pocket in his coat. His fingers found the tiny metal hair pins that he kept in there, not for himself, of course. For Alexander. 

Producing two of them from the folds, he stepped close to the door, panting, and kneeling by the lock hole and sticking them in at separate angles. Thomas had always been proficient with making chains, locks, and other little mechanisms, picking a lock wouldn’t be a problem, and he needed to do it NOW. 

“Come on you little shit… come on…” Thomas mumbled, jiggling around the pins and biting his lip with firm concentration.  
“There.” he exhaled with a flood of relief, hearing the click and feeling the bar slide out of the wall, permitting him to enter. He stood from his kneeling position hastily and shoved the door open, bursting inside. 

The room was in neat order, the bookshelves, the beautiful globe that was a gift from Washington, the grandfather clock from the Schuylers. But there were only two parts of the ornate room that Thomas cared about now. The corinthian mahogany fireplace and his desk. 

Thomas wasted no time in dashing to the desk's side, skidding roughly to his knees as he rounded it to the backside. 

“No, no. no….” Thomas mumbled feverishly to himself, yanking open drawers frantically, not caring if papers flew out and scattered the floor around him.  
“Goddamnit, Alexander…” he growled, pulling open drawer after drawer until he came to the last one, the smallest one at the bottom left of the desk. He pulled that one open too and as he peered inside the dim little space, his breath caught in his throat. 

This was it alright; the scarlet seals of the Jefferson family and the deep red of the Reynolds’ glinted in the pale light. 

Thomas dug his hands in, pulling out the letters. There weren’t many, just a few from him and the Reynolds letter, but holding the dry parchment in his hands, they felt as dangerous as fire. Fire, that’s right, Thomas remembered with a jolt. 

He set them atop Alexander’s desk and stumbled hastily to the fireplace, searching blindly for matches around the mantle and on finding them, struck one in a hurry. The flame leaped up the wood and licked his finger.  
“Ff-! Shit!” he tried not to yell as he bit his tongue, striking another match and lowering it to the fireplace which was, luckily, already stocked with dry wood. It took a few tries to get it started, but the flame finally took root with the help of Thomas’s gentle blowing. Soon the blaze was crawling onto other logs and lodging there, snapping and popping with sparks. 

“Good, okay.” Thomas panted, standing up from the hearth and running a hand through his sweaty hair, getting it out of his face. The Virginian stood up straight, now all that was left was burn the letters, burn the evidence and Alexander would be safe. His Alexander would be safe, and Burr would lose. 

But that was when the drawling, bone-chilling voice sounded through the room.  
“Now what, might I ask, are you planning to do with those?” 

Thomas’s stomach lurched icily inside him. 

The Virginian whirled around, ready to stand his ground firmly as he always did; he planted his feet, heart already thumping in his chest.

Aaron Burr, wearing a dark green coat and a hat was standing tall in the door frame that Thomas had left unlocked. The cunning man’s face was split with a wide grin, his beady, dark eyes drilling into Thomas. They flickered to the open drawers, the letters splayed out on the desk, and back to Thomas. 

“I thought so.” Burr hummed, nodding deeply. The snake took a slow step forward.

“I would consider staying back if I were you, Mr. Senator.” Thomas snarled, growling beginning to rumble in his chest. The Secretary of State circled closer to the letters, pulling them into his coat, Burr circling him in the same direction.  
It was a standoff. 

The Senator only laughed lightly through his nose.  
“But we have so much to speak of before I go, Mr. Secretary,” he smiled politely, “I just had the most lovely conversation with your little fucktoy at the assembly building.” 

Thomas’s temper immediately flared, a searing flame of fury burning through him. He ached to lunge at Burr, tear into him for speaking of Alexander in that way, but that would prove to the bastard that Thomas was with the immigrant. Instead, he had to swallow down the anger and confusion.

“You don’t have a fucking clue what you’re talking about.” Thomas sneered, curling his lip aggressively. 

“Ahh, but you do.” Burr countered, placing his hands behind his back as they circled each other. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”  
Thomas let no expression across on his stony face, his icy dark eyes locking onto Burr’s; he would hold his ground, maintain his control. 

“You really must come off it, Jefferson. I can sense your…” He scanned the Virginian up and down, smiling, “Impatience. So I shall cut right to the point.” The man stopped, and so did Thomas, the two never breaking eye contact; it was a challenge now, neither one was going to back down.

“I know about your little affair with our Treasurer.” 

Thomas’s heart stopped.  
The air hitched in his chest as if someone had kicked him, making him want to double over. 

...How?

It wasn’t possible. 

Burr laughed, “I can see your surprise, and I must say I was shocked as well.” Thomas’s walls were beginning to break down, his mouth felt slack and numb like it wasn’t working. He moved his lips, trying to speak.

“How did you…?”  
Burr held up a hand, silencing him, “It’s of no matter how I found out, Mr. Secretary. Or perhaps I should call you something more fitting.” Burr leered, curling his lip in disgust.  
“Like filthy sodomite.” he spat the words like they tasted bad on his tongue. 

Thomas’s eyes flashed with fury, the slur going straight through him and making him snarl.  
“How DARE you.” he spat right back, balling his knuckles into fists. But Burr wasn’t stopping. 

“I won’t waste your time, Mr. Secretary, I know you are a busy man.” Burr folded his hands in mock politeness, “Running for office soon, I presume.”  
Thomas seethed, his knuckles white now, begging to hit something, “That is none of your fucking concern.” He strained through clenched teeth.

Burr just exhaled and grinned, shaking his head. 

“Mm, I believe that now it is, Jefferson.” He began to move again, and so did Thomas, maintaining the exact pace and amount of distance between the men at all times, “Because with what I know about you and your little piece of fuckmeat… your presidency puts us in a position to…” Burr scanned him once again, devilish smirk on his face, “Help each other.” 

Thomas snarled out loud, the growl in his chest becoming louder.  
“Don’t FUCKING talk about him like that.” Thomas spat, slamming a hand down onto the desk, “Don’t FUCKING do it.” He was panting with rage. 

Burr didn’t flinch, didn’t even blink. They both stopped once more, Thomas’s frame outlined by the blazing fireplace behind him. Burr stared at him calmly, unmoving. He just… looked at Thomas.

The Secretary of state felt a creeping suspicion twinge uncomfortably up his spine. He tried not to shiver or let his face break. Something was going on here and it was making him extremely uneasy. The way Burr looked at him like he… knew something.

“Out of curiosity, Jefferson, what are in those letters of yours.” Burr’s face didn’t move but his lips, it was unnerving. Thomas reached in his coat slowly and pulled the bundle out, holding them at his side. 

“You think.” Thomas breathed, laughing incredulously, “You think I would… EVER tell anything to YOU.” he spat the last word with disgust, reaching out his hand holding the letters right above the fire. The light of the flames flickered over the yellow sheets of parchment, illuminating them. He expected Burr to flinch as he held them there, so tantalizingly close to their demise. But the man just… stared at him. 

“I would rather… DIE.” Thomas panted, licking his lips, “Than tell you one thing about him.” Thomas let his dark brows furrow into the most hatred-filled scowl, the heat buffeting his hand. And then Thomas let them go, throwing them into the fire. 

The flames roared as they devoured the new source of kindling, engulfing them in an instant. Thomas didn’t watch, but he could see Burr watching as the parchment curled and blackenet, the waxy seals melting like blood over the wood. And the man did not move. He did not lunge towards the fire to poke the letters out. He just watched. 

And then he smiled. 

“Why, Mr. Secretary, I wish you could say the same about Alexander.” 

For a few, eternal moments, Thomas didn’t move.  
All he could hear was the crackling of the fire. And the roaring of the blood in his ears. 

“What?” He sputtered. His heart lurched, that same feeling creeping up his spine. What was going on?

Burr placed his hands behind his back, sighing deeply, ready to begin speaking where Thomas could not.  
“What a shame, what a shame.” He began, shaking his head in mock sympathy for the Virginian. Thomas didn't understand.  
“Why do you think Alexander stayed behind, Jefferson?” he spoke condescendingly, “To protect you?” Burr took Jefferson in for a minute and then laughed, “So did I, I must admit.” 

Thomas just stood there, completely vulnerable.  
“What are you talking about?” Burr seemed not to hear him. 

“When I found him in that closet I was sure of your filthy relationship, yes. But I did not, however, expect him to throw you on the sword, Thomas. What a shame.” he spoke again, shaking his head. 

Thomas couldn’t feel his legs, his tongue, anything. It felt like he was frozen, icy, arctic water pouring down on his body. 

“So I confronted him, you see. A bit proud of myself, I must confess,” Burr laughed through his nose, shrugging in amusement at himself, “Told him that he had lost. I had figured his disgusting secret out. It was to my surprise when he told me all about how you had forced him into it.” 

Thomas couldn’t move. He blinked, lips parted.  
“That’s not true….” He sputtered quietly. 

Burr ignored him, “Told me about how he turned it to his advantage, saw the opportunity and wrote the Compromise.” Burr began to smile like he was asking about the weather,  
“Did he tell you he was keeping the banks in New York?” 

Thomas backed up, slowly, he was swaying, getting dizzier. His back hit the side of the mantle and he leaned, shaking his head.  
“He wouldn’t-” 

“Ohh, but he did.” Burr interrupted, “Told me he tried to get rid of you the night after it was signed and sealed. Isn’t that right?” 

Thomas’s head was spinning, his vision clouded and hazy. Alexander had. He had tried to cut him off that night. All hear could hear was his heartbeat. He stayed there for what felt like an eternity. Time had stopped. The world had stopped. 

“I don’t believe you.” he floundered, letting his shadowy eyes slowly raise to Burr’s. Burr watched the tall Virginian’s face begin to darken with anguish. Burr relished in the power he held over him, because he had the proof. The proof of Alexander's betrayal. 

“Well what a coincidence. Because along with his nice little story, he gave me a gift for the road.” Burr spoke, reaching in his coat, “Why do you think I could care less that you burned those letters?” he cocked his head, producing the small square of parchment and holding it up between his index and middle finger. 

“No…”  
“I have one of my own.” He cleared his throat, watching Thomas’s eyes slowly… slowly fall to the floor in defeat, his lips parted in utter disbelief. Thomas crumpled against the mantle. 

“Ah yes, right here. Your seal, your signature. Alexander handed it to me with pleasure.” Burr enunciated, sneering. The Senator stepped carefully over some scattered papers on the ground, maintaining his daintiness. 

“He betrayed you, Thomas. He…” Burr took another step closer, “Used… you.” the man picked his words very carefully, approaching like Thomas was a dangerous animal. 

“You and I, we are the same, Thomas. Just the same.” He shook his head in sorrowful sympathy, “Alexander was my friend once. Did you know that?” he spoke softly, enticing Thomas. The Virginian still stared speechless, expressionless at the ground.  
It was working. 

“You have to realize that there’s only one thing worth realizing about Alexander Hamilton. One thing." Burr shook his head solemnly, "No matter how many times you choose him…” He stopped before Thomas, trying to coax his eyes up to his, “He will always choose his legacy…” The last words came out as nothing more than a whisper. 

Burr watched Thomas’s face closely, the light in his eyes slowly seeping out and being replaced by tormented despair. The man was leaning against the mantle as if it was the only thing left in the world that was real. 

“But we can change that.” Bur whispered, so close that it gently rustled Thomas’s hair.  
The two didn’t move. The tension was tangible in the air. 

Burr moved his face down to look into Thomas’s.  
“You and I, we have to power to put him where he deserves to be.” Burr spoke, holding out the letter for Thomas to see. He didn’t look at it.  
“We can take his legacy away from him as he took everything from us. We can watch him burn…” Burr breathed so slowly, moving his hand over the fire just as Thomas had done. 

The Senator cocked his head, watching Thomas’s dark expression. Glistening in the flickering firelight, a single, utterly silent tear cut slowly down his face.  
“You say the word, Thomas.” Burr whispered, lowering it closer to the flames.  
“You say the word and I put it to the fire. You say the word and I will be the greatest Treasurer any administration has ever seen.” Burr watched the tear fall onto his coat, Thomas’s face still impossibly expressionless, stony. Cold. 

“And we win…” 

Burr’s coaxing, his careful choice of words brought Thomas’s face slowly, gradually turning to look at Burr. His eyes were impossibly dark, black even as his anguished expression began to consume him. 

And he spoke.  
“Do it.” Thomas whispered, staring at the letter. It was over. 

Burr smiled, and let the parchment fall onto the flames with a crackle. Thomas watched it burn, the fire reflecting in his emotionless eyes. The Senator just stared at him.

They stood there for a very long time, until the grainy ashes fell to the bottom of the hearth, nothing more than dust. Burr could hardly believe how everything had worked so beautifully. He was in power now. He was going to take everything Alexander loved. 

Thomas still just gazed into the fire, the agony on in his eyes so apparent. 

“Get out…” Thomas whispered, too pained to have anyone remain with him. He couldn’t bear what he had done. What Alexander had made him do. He hated what Burr was turning him into, but he had no choice.

Burr didn’t move at first, unsure of what Thomas wanted. 

The broken boy just turned his face slowly up towards Burr, the single tear streak still glistening on his skin. 

“I said…” He drawled quietly, unable to hide his accent, “Get...out....”

Sensing the seriousness, Burr nodded deeply, keeping his head down as he backed up slowly. Without another word, the senator was quietly stepping out of the door, casting one last glance into the room. It was now dark in there, evening having fallen over the city. It was just Jefferson against the fire, eyes still trained on it.

Burr smiled to himself and turned the corner, walking down the hall, through the lobby, and out into the street. He could already taste the victory on his tongue. He was going to be Treasurer of the Jefferson administration. 

**

Alexander’s soles thundered against the haphazard cobblestone street, he didn’t even care if he twisted an ankle. He would keep running. 

After some time, a lad had come to find a broom to clean the assembly room with, and had been frightened half to death when a short politician had careened out of the closet like a madman. With nothing more than a quick, “Sorry.” he had taken off down the hallway in a flash. 

Tears still streaming down his face, they were dried with the wind now as he ran, bumping into everyone on the street that he couldn’t dodge. Some people yelped as he hit them, but Alexander couldn’t find it in himself to care, he just plowed a way through, bringing the heel of his palm to violently rub the wetness off his cheeks. Just get to the Treasury. It was close, and it was the only thing he knew anymore.

When he finally arrived, the lobby was empty, everyone having headed home for the evening except a few stragglers up in offices. The immigrant’s feet squeaked on the marble floor as he sprinted by, hat flying off and landing somewhere, Alexander tossed his work case onto a chair as he passed too, not caring in the slightest. 

He grabbed the corner to help him not careen into the wall with his momentum, and his tumbled around it towards his office. The door was cracked open, maybe there was time. 

Choking off a quick sob, gasping sharply for breath with a stitch in his side, Alexander ran straight into the door. He smacked it with his palms, sending himself hurtling into the room. When he was inside, he skidded to a stop, hunching over the cramp and looking around.

The room was completely dark, no candles, just one dying fire in the hearth. Despite the fact that no candles were burning, it smelled like burning wax anyway....  
Catching his breath, Alexander’s eyes finally fell on the fire. And the towering figure looming beside it. 

He gulped “Thomas!” Alex breathed, it came out as a pained, choking noise, not calm as he wanted it. The man leaned against the mantelpiece, staring into the flames intently. He did not look up at Alexander. He didn’t move. 

“Thomas.” Alex spoke again, staggering a step towards him, but Thomas finally looked up at him.  
And Alexander stopped. Dead. In his tracks. 

Alexander had seen Thomas angry before. He had seen him furious. But this… this was something entirely different. There was no word that he could put his finger on; his eyes were dark and livid and he was… suffering. 

Alexander’s heart lurched sharply. As he slowly, timidly tried to take another step towards him, scared. “Thomas…?”  
“Is it true.” Thomas hissed emotionlessly between his teeth, forcing Alexander to stop again. The man raised his eyes to Alex’s and the immigrant watched them darken. Alexander had never seen Thomas like this, never. He didn’t respond. This wasn't real. He had... NOTHING to say.

Thomas’s face screwed up in agony.  
“IS IT TRUE?” Thomas roared, making his partner flinch. 

Alex shook his head feverishly, swallowing, trying to gulp down a sob as tears positively streamed down his face.  
“I’m sorry, Thomas you have to listen to me.” he spoke desperately, shaky voice pleading. He shook his head more as he saw Thomas’s black gaze sink to the floor, not listening to a word he said, already knowing the answer, “Thomas PLEASE!” he begged, voice echoing in the room. 

Alexander couldn’t stand the silence anymore; it was unbearable. He didn’t care if Thomas hit him; he lunged forward towards him and they collided.  
Alexander wrapped his arms around the man’s waist, pulling him impossibly tightly to his body. 

“Please…” he sobbed, pressing his face into Thomas’s chest, squeezing his eyes shut so hard that it hurt. Thomas didn’t move. He didn’t say a word. He didn’t hug Alexander back. 

The immigrant sobbed again, bunching up Thomas’s shirt in his hands and clenching, wanting to feel him, wanting to make Thomas feel something. Feel something, goddamnit! Please… He didn’t care if he yelled or hit him or grasped him back, he didn’t care anymore. Just say something… 

Alexander pulled him closer, his face a mess of tears and snot and hair and anguish. He could faintly smell the scent of roses. Hear a string quartet.  
“Thomas please…” he whimpered, “I want to BE with you.” he choked out. It was the most painful sound either of them had ever heard, and it ripped through both of their hearts.

Neither of them moved. The memories echoed off the walls of Alexander's head. Thomas...

After a few moments of stillness, Thomas finally moved, making Alex looked up into his face. Thomas was looking down at him, blinking at Alexander with those cold eyes. Alexander pleaded to him silently, lip quivering.

He shook his head, and finally, his expression cracked into anguish. And now Alexander could put his finger on what he saw in Thomas’s eyes: his heart was breaking. 

“You’re too late, Alexander.” he spoke, barely more than a whisper. 

The world started to come apart, breaking at the seams around Alexander. He shook his head frantically, tears pouring, he couldn’t breathe. 

Thomas pushed him aside, ripping him away from his body.  
No.  
Alex stumbled aside with a cry, unable to move, to speak, to breathe. Thomas looked back at the man he loved and let a tear fall from his face, let Alexander see it. Alex had never seen Thomas cry...

“Because I don’t want to be with you.” he spoke clearly, turning to move towards the door. This couldn't be happening. 

“N-no.” Alexander stuttered, trying to follow him. His legs weren’t doing as he told them to. Thomas strode out the door, not looking over his shoulder. 

“Thomas!” Alexander cried, tearing his voice to shreds for the second time that day. 

But he was too late. Thomas slammed the door behind him and was… gone.  
His voice echoed in his office. His empty, quiet office. Alexander did not move. 

It was dark in there. Night had fallen quickly over the city, over the Treasury department. Alexander breathed shallow shaky breaths, the tears coming down without him even blinking, he couldn’t blink. 

Here he was, in his office. In his Treasury. The legacy he had built towering around him...

And he had never felt so alone.


	39. Forgiveness...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alexander is in ruins... and what to happen next but the return of our ladies. Alexander and Thomas have no choice but to have the dinner they had promised to their wives. But when Thomas storms out... Alexander follows. Will Alexander do what he knows is right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GAH I'm so excited for this chapter! I love you all so much, thank you for being the best readers anyone could wish fore. Next chapter coming RIGHT up! <3

Alexander had long since lost track of the time as he lay in bed. His glazed eyes stared blankly at the wall and watched the shadow of the raindrops sliding down the window in little streams. He had been in this position for twenty. One. Hours. 

But he did not know that. 

The drops fell peacefully, the white noise of a rainy city day washed over him in his bed but he couldn’t feel any of it. Where he would usually be sitting on the porch watching the rain, or sitting on the porch with… someone else. That was gone now. He lay with his back facing the window, he didn’t want to see it.

For another long, unknown amount of time, he just… laid there. He didn’t have the energy or the will to do anything else. It was impossible, unthinkable to get up and do anything. Not even to eat or go to sleep or get some water. The only sound was his breathing and the rain. The soft patter of rain. 

Before today, Alexander had no idea that a heart could PHYSICALLY hurt. Because it genuinely did. With every beat, it sunk deeper into his chest, panging and fucking aching, like there was a fist around it just squeezing it. It was this crushing sense of brokenness and there was… NOTHING he could do about it now. He had destroyed the only thing he cared about. 

Thomas…

The name made him squeeze his eyes shut with a whimper, and he pulled the covers closer to him, holding them close to his body like they were the only piece of reality he could cling to. Just the name made him KEEN with grief. He… missed Thomas to a point of agony that he had never before reached. It was… unbearable. 

All he could think of was Thomas’s gentle smile, a soft brush of fingertips over the nape of his neck. His body felt so deprived, so empty of that touch that he had become so unwittingly dependent on. He had... no idea how much he had relied on him.

He would fall in and out of sleep and when he awoke, he would literally, completely involuntarily reach for Thomas like second nature. And when his hand touched nothing but cold, empty sheets, he would recoil back, bringing it back towards his body like it had been burned. Thomas was supposed to BE there. He was supposed to BE with him and this was wrong.

Alexander curled into a tighter ball and squeezed his eyes shut. The rain changed directions outside and now pattered the other window. He thought that if Thomas was here, he would make sure that Alexander wasn’t cold and that he had brushed his hair and teeth before climbing in, fussing over him. Thomas would lay that heavy, warm arm around his waist and pull Alex into his body, pressing gently to him and breathing in his scent. 

He had to stop thinking of it. This was too much.   
He couldn’t think of the future either. What would he do now? What would happen when he had to go back to work and… SEE Thomas. How could he live without Thomas? How would he bear it when Eliza came back and everything fell into how it was before, but… it could never be like how it was before, couldn’t it. Not anymore. 

After another meaningless hour, there was a faint sound from downstairs in the house.  
Alexander ignored it, pulling the covers tightly over his head and hiding away under them. He didn’t even think of it; his head was in other places. 

And a few moments later there was a clunk, making Alex’s eyes reluctantly crack open. He perked his ears for a few seconds, listening hard for another sound.  
Curious. The house was silent, so he slowly closed his eyes again, beginning to drift off one more.

“Thwomp!” 

Alexander’s eyes snapped open, an icy tug of adrenaline shooting through him. His body jolted as he sat up, looking around nervously while his heart hammered in his ears. That was the sound of his door.

Meaning someone was in his house. 

Going against everything his heavy, exhausted body wanted, Alex quietly pulled the sheets aside, placing his bare feet on the rug. He stepped very carefully towards the dresser, cringing when the drawer he was trying to open creaked a bit. After a terrifying pause, his fingers curled around the cold wood and metal of his pretty flintlock pistol and he expertly cocked it, conscious of the thudding and grunting downstairs. His heart was thudding just the same.

Holding the flintlock out in front of him with rather unfortunate familiarity, Alexander stepped silently, one foot in front of the other into the hall, inching towards the corner where the stairs were. Obviously, he couldn’t step out onto the stairs or the intruder would see him, so, blood roaring in his ears like Niagara Falls, peeked around the corner. 

Controlling his breath, straining it to little more than nothing, he placed his finger on the trigger, looking around and down the steps. Almost immediately, he put his gun at ease, fear leaving his chest and being replaced by another sinking, dread-like emotion. 

He stepped out onto the stairs, tucking the gun away into his waistband until he could put it back in their safe cupboard in the bedroom. Alexander swallowed a growing lump in his throat and tried his best to straighten himself up despite the thudding of his heart and the utter despair he was in. 

“Eliza.” 

He breathed, putting his chin in the air, a gesture that almost hurt him, wounding his pride even more. He hated pretending. Pretending that he wasn’t breaking. He began to descend the staircase. 

The brunette maiden’s heat snapped up from her extensive luggage, face breaking into a smile as her warm, brown eyes found Alexander’s.   
“Alexander!” She exclaimed, far more enthusiastic than he. She discarded a small trunk that she had been trying to place on top of her larger one, and lifted the hem of her skirt so she could run to him. She skipped towards the bottom of the stairs where Alexander met her, and she pulled him into a hug.

It took… everything… in Alexander to force himself to hug her back. The feeling of her in his arms was familiar in a comforting way. He had missed her, his best friend. But everything was different now.   
“Dear God, how I’ve missed you! Augh!” she squeezed him tighter, bunching up his shirt and just taking all of him in. he wrapped his arms around her waist and it felt so… unnatural now, almost alien. The tough corset beneath her dress was so contrary to the softness of Thomas, and her being the same height as him was unnerving also, not being completely enveloped and smothered by the embrace. Alexander observed all of this in a split second, reminding him with an ache how much he NEEDED Thomas.

He forced a laugh that broke his heart, “Missed you too, Liza.” he spoke muffledly into her hair, pulling away after a bit for breath. He coughed slightly, trying so hard to maintain a small smile.

“I, uh, didn’t know you were coming back so soon.” He spoke, scratching the back of his head. Eliza just gave a tilt of her head and shrugged with a sigh.  
“I guess I just missed home.” she smiled, “And my scrappy husband.” she spoke with a fond little twinkle in her eye, turning to her luggage once again to pick up a few items.

“Perhaps some help, Alexander.”  
He grumbled exhaustedly, “I don’t want to lug around your shit right now.”   
Eliza just rolled her eyes to herself, hauling another thing, “Please? I can’t do it ALL.” 

Alexander just felt something MISSING as he walked numbly to help her, thoughts buzzing in his head. He thought exactly how this would go with Thomas, the man would smack him in the back of the head and tell him he’d better help if he didn’t want to sleep on the floor tonight. It sounded barbaric, but it was exactly what Alexander wanted, that banter and domestic love-hate that made him feel so complete. 

And as he pulled her luggage up the stairs, he thought, all that was gone.

**

Eliza peeker her head carefully in the bedroom, careful not to be too loud on the door. Her eye caught sight of the breathing lump that was her husband, still curled up as he had been as soon as he had helped. Now it was seven o clock and he was still there. She took a deep breath, composing herself and putting a smile on her face. 

“Alexander.” She sang softly, earning a rude grunt that she wasn’t unused to.   
“Dinner’s ready.” she stepped quietly into their room keeping an eye on Alexander as she strolled up to the windows, drawing open the curtains to the dimming light. 

“Mm, Eliza stop that.” Alex groaned, pulling the covers over his head. She just stepped to the dresser to close the door when she noticed…

She cocked her head, reaching a reluctant hand in to run down the fabric within. Her lips pursed in suspicious curiosity, her gut picking up on something odd.  
“Darling,” She began, brows furrowed as she continued to look within, “Where are… all of your clothes? There’s only,” She counted, “Three outfits in here. 

He did not respond, only tensed up.   
Oh….   
shit…  
He had almost forgotten about that, it had completely slipped his mind and now she was in there. 

“Alex?” she turned around to look at the lump, crossing her arms indignantly, “What is up with you? You’ve spoken four words since I got here and you’re just lying around?” 

Alex forced himself to speak, angry tears forming at the corners of his eyes, “I’m just tired, Liza.” He strained through gritted teeth.

She sighed, letting her face soften tiredly and walked to the bed. She sat down on the foot of it, turning her pretty face to look upon her husband.   
“Tomorrow night, we’re going to have dinner with the Jeffersons. You and I.” She spoke quietly rubbing a hand over Alex’s blanketed shin. 

The man immediately turned his head, pulling it out from under the blanket.   
“What?” He spat, the word coming out harsher than he had intended and making her recoil. Feeling bad, he breathed and pursed his lips, forcing a softer approach. 

“I’m sorry, what?” He repeated, gentler this time but still in shock. She just furrowed her brows at him.  
“You… did promise me in a letter that we would. And we are.” She nodded as if it was common knowledge.   
“Come on, Alexander, for me. A welcome home gift?” She coaxed with a smile. 

Alex grumbled and rolled over onto his other side. Everything was falling apart. What did it matter anyway. What did it matter.   
“What do you even like about her, anyway?”   
“What?”

Alex didn’t lift his head. He was honestly just too destitute and miserable.   
“Martha Jefferson. She’s got a bad attitude and a stick up her ass.” 

Eliza recoiled in what almost appeared to be… anger.  
“She is no such thing.” Eliza snapped, rather uncharacteristic of her.   
“She has a sharp tongue but she holds herself in a manner equivalent to the men she must deal with on a daily basis. She doesn’t want to be taken as an idle wife, and with he wit, she has achieved her end, wouldn’t you say so?”

Alex just shrugged and didn’t look up. He was too tired.   
He didn’t even note when Eliza stood and breezed out of the room, the brunette girl heading down the stairs and right into his office. She fumbled in the drawer for parchment and ink, and then brought it to his desk. 

That was when she began writing. 

Dear Martha,

One foot into the door and things have already been far more curious and peculiar than I would have imagined; you were completely correct.   
To begin with, Alexander is distant from myself and unaffectionate. He won’t eat, which is an immediate red flag that I have not once seen in our marriage, and he won’t get out of his bed. I swear that I have heard him weeping. He is morose and hopeless and I can’t figure out why. 

Here’s one thing, though. Upon opening our closet, his clothes are gone. Only a few outfits remained and he provided no explanation. What do you make of this?  
We will be coming over tomorrow evening for dinner, as I suggested and you accepted to my greatest thanks. Hopefully then we can find out some of what is going on. Because, Martha… Something IS.   
I didn’t believe it before, and now, I think it impossible not to. I don’t know what to think.

With much affection,  
Elizabeth Hamilton

Dear Eliza,

I wish we could be writing to each other on more cheerful notes, but it seems as though my letter shan’t be filled with lines of how I miss you already either.   
When I arrived, Thomas was locked up in his study, looking as if he hasn’t slept in a night. Baffled by his appearance, I commanded he wash at once but he snapped at me. The nerve! He is already working on his campaign and it seems as though he hasn’t stopped. He’s been angry and irritable all evening, and then I got your letter.

I know it was a large assumption, but I dashed right to our room and flung open the closet door on reading your note. Something in me was just TELLING me to do it. I didn’t even think of what it would mean if it were true…. My dearest, Eliza, I don’t wish to upset you…

But before me were sets and sets of men’s clothes far too small for my husband, right alongside his. Alexander’s clothes are here, Eliza. They’re here. 

I believe our dinner tomorrow will be an important one. No matter what takes place... Best of luck to all of us. 

With more affection,  
Martha Jefferson

**

Thomas climbed out of the bathtub, water streaming off his strapping, lean body. He sniffed, reaching for a towel and dried himself thoroughly, stepping across the floor to stand before his washbasin and mirror. Shaking water droplets out of his hair, his eyes eventually found his own in the mirror. And he stared. 

There wasn’t much to see other than the slight redness of sleeplessness. And he squinted, moving closer, not used to being unsatisfied with his reflection. He thought himself pretty damn pretty, but his eyes had lost something. 

“Fuck it…” he grumbled, pulling open a tiny drawer by the wasbasin and pulling out a porcelain tube by the toiletries, uncapping it. He observed it in the golden stream of light coming from the candle. Kohl. Shrugging and not quite caring, he applied just the slightest around his dark eyes. 

When he was finished, he took a step back and took a moment to cock his head in awe. It darkened his eyes in a way that was both dangerous and provocative, yet so subtle.   
Still naked, he strolled out to his wardrobe, searching for the only outfit that would compliment his theme for the night, whatever that was. He didn’t even know what he was trying to achieve. 

Black waistcoat, deep red coat with black cuffs, same blood red breeches. The man straightened his cravat in the mirror. Under any other circumstances he would smirk at his positively devilish appearance, make a cocky comment on his own handsome looks. But not today. He only felt resentment in his heart as he turned away from the mirror he had brushed Alexander’s hair before, with slow, long strokes… 

**

Alexander crossed his arms and looked out the window as they bumped along, the day had cleared up for a few pleasant hours, but besides that, rain. Rain, rain, rain. It was warm within the carriage, Eliza was bundled up beside him and reading a book, and he just stared at the rolling fields. 

Their wheels splashed through muddy puddles as they made their way up the long lane. Alexander turned his face away from the water-streaming glass to look forth. They were coming up on Thomas’s house and Alex knew it, he fucking knew it. Didn’t mean he had to like it though, he thought and crossed his arms. 

He wished he’d never promised Eliza this. But how was he to know things would happen like… THIS. When Thomas had soothed him with a rubbing palm and unreal sex, he’d thought that when this dinner came it would be almost silly, fun. Now it was everything but as the driver reined in the horse to a stop at the front door.

Alex looked up at the brick manor towering before him and swallowed. Just how it was, of course, when he had run up the steps into Thomas’s arms over and over again. The place was his HOME, Alexander realized. He’d never thought of it before now, but it had never been so true. 

“Ah, here we are.” Eliza breathed through a smile, already excited and rosy cheeked. She’d been like this all day.   
“Come on, Alexander.” She spoke over her shoulder, stepping out of the carriage.  
“Yeah, coming.” Alex ran a hand through his hair and straightened his cravat. A deep breath would have to suffice as he hopped to the porch to avoid the rain, feet crunching on the wet, muddy gravel. Thomas would hate having his grass swamped, Alexander noted.

Alex stood with his hands stuffed in his pockets on the porch as they awaited someone. His heart fell when the footsteps arrived just behind the door, but luckily he knew Thomas’s footsteps enough to know it wasn’t him. 

“Eliza!” Martha breathed on opening the door, the two girls squealing and jumping excitedly to hold each other and give a polite kiss on each cheek, a French tradition that Martha surely followed. Nevertheless, Alexander was surprised to see her so affectionate. She was usually a chilly, uptight girl. 

They breathed and straightened their hair, Martha looking at Alexander up and down. Ugh. There she was.   
“Mr. Hamilton. How good to see you.”   
“Secretary.” Alex mumbled, following the two girls who were arm in arm, into the warmth of the house that he was far too familiar with...

Alex’s heart was already beginning to thud harder with every step. He was getting closer to Thomas, every stride was pulling him closer to Thomas, HIS Thomas. It was so strange… it was like every step he took made him remember something they had done together. Kissed on that wall. Read poetry there. Dined on the rug in pajamas there. And now he was back. 

The suspense mounted on him with each passing second. He could see the door to the dining room. This was really going to happen. 

Eliza offered her hand to Alexander and he took it because he didn’t know anything better to do. And now Martha was pushing open the door and he was there. 

His breath caught in his throat at the sight of his Thomas. He was gorgeous.  
Leaning leisurely at the head of the table, the place he had always insisted on maintaining when Alexander dined with him, another naturally dominant characteristic of him. He was in the richest cloth of red and black, complimenting so well with his raven hair and startlingly handsome eyes. It was like seeing him for the first time again. And fuck, Alexander couldn’t bear to look for more than a moment. 

“Secretary Jefferson.” Alex nodded, trying his best to avoid eye contact, swallowing at the floor. Thomas just lounged there, knuckles to his lips as he stared coldly forward.   
“Secretary Hamilton.” he spoke with the most rigidly stiff northern accent Alexander had ever heard. It was so emotionless, so icy. 

There was an awkward moment of silence in which the two girls exchanged glances. Nobody moved. 

“...Shall we sit?” Martha finally broke the silence stretching a smile and leading Eliza to a seat across from herself. Alexander found himself pointed to the other head of the table, far from Thomas as possible but directly in his line of sight. 

This was hell. Alexander coughed, leaning back, unable to suppress his natural arrogance.  
“So,” He sniffed, glancing at Martha whilst a servant filled up their wine glasses, “What’s on the menu?” he asked bluntly, swirling the glass beneath his nose as if he knew anything of wine tasting.

Thomas’s brows twitched slightly as he just stared. 

Martha watched as he tilted his head back to take a swig.   
“Coq a vin, simple but never dull, flamiche as well, and to finish off, souffle.” She recited, smoothing her napkin over her own lap. 

They then dived into casual conversation, the kind that Alexander despised the most, for the whole main course. The spread was beautiful, of course, only the finest combination of French cuisine and Virginian. The flow of wine never stopped in their crystal glasses. Martha peppered him with questions about his garden and his house and his antique quill set and bla bla bla bla…

Thomas didn’t say a single word unless asked. Even then, his response was a yes, no, or an offhanded grunt. The man didn’t even touch his food, just stared down Alex every second, making the little one feel watched and burning with silent humiliation. Why did he have to fucking do this.  
Alexander squirmed in his seat and cast a glance across to Thomas, who only stared back and squinted his eyes for a split second. 

Alex’s darted away immediately, asking Eliza to repeat what she had said, trying not to let his burning cheeks show. 

“Tell us about your Compromise, both of you. I fear I’ll never hear such counsel in one room again.” She spoke, lifting her chin and placing it in her pretty little hand. Alex squirmed, trying not to look at Thomas as his discomfort mounted exponentially at the question. Shit, shit, shit.

“How about not at the dinner table, Liza?” He licked his lips, looking at one small spot on the tablecloth. Of course, fucking Martha decides to pipe up right then.

“Oh, do tell, please. It won’t bother the mood. Thomas?” Martha inquired, tilting her face to Thomas to begin telling them about their revolutionary Compromise. The room fell so silent, Alexander’s heart thudded so hard that he could hear it. 

Thomas’s face showed absolutely NO emotion as he lowered his knuckle from his lip, expression completely calm and still. Don’t do it, Thomas.   
“How about you ask Secretary Hamilton.” he spoke evenly with that impeccable northern accent. 

Alex’s. Jaw. Dropped. 

So that was how he was going to play it? Alex had to recover quickly, but from that one, it hit him hard. And there was no quick way to recover. The girl’s heads turned to him quizzically. 

“I…” He sputtered, looking from face to face, face positively flaming. His eyes met Thomas’s burning into them with fire. 

“Oh, I’ve forgotten, my mistake.” Thomas’s face didn’t move but his lips, his dark irises locked on Alexander’s, “He’s reluctant to talk about the contents of the document, aren’t you, Mr. Hamilton?”

Alexander’s fists clenched under the table, cracking as he tensed his jaw. Thomas’s formal, cold language was going to make him either lunge at him in rage or fucking cry. There was no in between. His frustration and his heart-wrenching love for the man was messing with his head and he couldn’t form a sentence, he was going to punch his lights out.

Thomas watched him flounder, shaking his head slowly in disgust, and finally rolled his eyes that had been so still the whole night.   
“If you’ll excuse me.” He sneered, throwing his napkin onto the table, making the girls flinch. Alexander did too. He scooted his chair back and stood, not bothering to push it back in, “I need some air.”   
“Thomas!” Martha gasped in an appalled tone, but Thomas ignored her, shaking his head and gliding out of the room. There was a shocked moment of silence. No one could believe it.

“My God… I’m so sorry…” Martha began to apologize, addressing Alexander and Eliza as she stood, brushing off her green dress, “I don’t know what’s gotten into him; I ought to go-”

“Sit down.” Alex spoke, not caring about his rudeness right now. His mind and heart were working at a million miles an hour. Martha gaped at him, but had no time to protest as Alex scooted back his chair too, placing his napkin on the table.   
“Be back.” he grunted, no time for an explanation. 

If he tried to make one, he would talk himself out of it, and he needed to do this. In that moment, he had made a decision. One that would either work or cost him, and he had no fucking idea which, and he didn’t care. All he knew was that he was heading out of the room as if pulled by some primal instinct, so powerful he’d be a fool to try and stop it. 

He was going after Thomas. One more time. One last chance.

His heart pounded, terrified, suffering. But it breathed a breath of relief. He was listening to it. He was listening.  
He had one more chance. 

**

Alex strode in large steps, following Thomas’s direction. The man was quick, Alexander admitted irritably, as he stepped into Thomas’s bedroom and headed straight for the porch door.  
“Thomas-!” The Virginian slammed it in his face. Alex scoffed at the fucking nerve and yanked it right back open. 

The air of the cool autumn night kissed his face, an earthy smell of rain and soil heavy around him. The stars were invisible behind the thick cloud coverage, the rain still sprinkling beyond the roof of the porch. 

But the familiar smells and sounds meant nothing compared to the task at hand.   
“Hey! Hey!” Alexander snapped, arms wide open as he followed Thomas out onto the porch. The Virginian didn’t respond, just stormed to the edge of it, stopping at the sight of rain still falling. 

Alexander wasn’t giving up.   
“What the hell was that, man?” Alex scoffed, letting his arms fall to his sides in fury. Thomas whirled around in a flurry of fabric and bared his teeth. 

“Alexander Hamilton, if I were you, I would stay the FUCK away from me right now, on God.” he snarled the warning, making sure his canines were obvious. Those dark eyes threatened Alex, but he wasn’t one to back down so easily. 

“What, Thomas, what?” He groaned exasperatedly, rolling his head back, “I mean are we going to do this every fucking time? At work, around our wives? How fucking old are you?”   
Thomas made a move as if to lunge at Alexander but he held himself back with a purely vicious growl of rage. 

“Do… NOT… do it, Alexander. Don’t even THINK I won’t-”   
“What? Won’t what?” Alex continued to push it, knowing full well that he was, “Fight me? Tear me to shreds.” Alexander offered several options, scoffing.   
For a moment he shook his head and gazed at Thomas. There was such a hurricane of hatred in his eyes. And it broke Alexander.

“You know what, fucking do it, then, Thomas.” 

Alex let his face go serious as he shook his head, spreading his arms wide.   
“What?” Thomas positively spat, seething. Alex just held his arms open. 

“DO it, Thomas.” he spoke, voice wavering unexpectedly so he had to cough to cover it, “If you want to hit me, a-and take me down and clock me out, do it.” He panted now, these tears welling up in his eyes. This was NOT how he expected it, but all of the emotion was coming back at once, the fury, the suffering, it was all coming out. 

“If you HATE me, tear me apart.” Alexander just stood there, vulnerable, watching Thomas. The man didn’t move, just stood in his hostile position, chin raised in the air and dark eyes bearing down on Alexander with hatred. 

“DO it.” Alexander choked out, swallowing what could have been a sob. 

His voice was lost to the rain. All he could hear was his breath, and his heartbeat. For many long, intense moments, Thomas’s dark eyes looked down on him, the battle in his mind so clearly playing out in those spheres. The tension crackled between them, the suspense so thick, it was suffocating. 

And then, he screwed up his lips, and something in his eyes… broke. He dropped his stance, falling apart and turned away from Alex. The Virginian faced out to the rain, holding onto the side of the fireplace for support. 

“No.” he whispered. And it sounded so broken.   
He couldn’t lay a hand on Alexander. Not like this. He… wouldn’t. And that was the very thing that broke Alexander too. 

The immigrant watched Thomas’s back, his head fallen to his chest as the man was framed with the black of the night. Alexander’s arms carefully lowered back to his sides, nodding solemnly in understanding. He understood. Alexander bit his lip, trying to fend off the tears but it wasn’t going to work for long.

For a long amount of time, the two just stood there in silence, wondering how the hell they’d gotten themselves into this mess. Thomas wouldn’t turn back. 

And Alexander knew. As he rubbed his exhausted face. He knew this was his chance. 

Finally, Thomas’s low voice picked up.  
“Get away, Alexander.” It was quiet and deep. 

When Alex didn’t respond, Thomas spoke again, “Get away, Hamilton.” It was louder this time, “Leave.” And that was when Alexander realized that it wasn’t because Thomas wanted him gone. It was because he wanted him there. And he couldn’t bear it.

Alexander drew in a deep, long breath of midsummer night’s air; time slowed to a stop. The world, the hidden stars, even the trees all held their breath to watch this moment. Alexander’s moment. There was nothing but his breathing. And Thomas. 

“No.” Alex spoke.   
“What?-”

“I. Said. NO.” Alex enunciated clearer this time, squeezing his eyes shut at the ground. Thomas didn’t even respond this time. He didn’t move or turn to face Alexander. Just looked silently out at the rain. 

“I’m sick of leaving, Thomas.” Alexander breathed, running a hand through his hair, “I’m sick of… ALWAYS leaving.”   
Thomas scoffed humorlessly, “Bullshit.” 

“Can you shut the fuck up for two seconds and let me talk?” Alexander choked down another sob as he spat at him, knowing if Thomas interrupted he’d never get this out. But he had to.

The rain pattered softly out on the fields. Alexander breathed it in. 

“I’m sick of being afraid.” his voice wavered, eyes closed.

For a moment he let that sink in. It didn’t make sense why he had said it but he couldn’t stop now. Thomas didn’t move. 

“I’m sick of being the coward, I’m sick of playing the emotionless politician.” He prepared himself for this next words, although he was unsure he truly could.   
“I’m… SICK.” He choked, “Of chasing a legacy I don’t even want if you’re not in it.” He punched the last four words between painfully gritted teeth. His eyes were still squeezed shut to combat tears. And Thomas still did not make a sound. 

The sheets of rain quietly changed direction in the breeze. 

“Thomas…” Alex began again, looking up to the ceiling and around, feeling the first tears spill past his eyes and roll down his cheek. His lips moved as he searched for words, “I have... SO much I have to say to you. That I SHOULD’VE said to you.” he sputtered now, not letting the flow of words cease. 

“That you deserve and I never said because I’m so wrapped up in my own selfishness I can’t even see when something I NEVER-” tears were steadily streaming now and he sobbed his next word, “NEVER deserved to have comes into my life. Comes into MY life and makes it something worth living.”

There was a brief moment of frustrated silence where Alexander, open lipped, tried to find words, running a hand through his hair. 

“I’m a fucking idiot. I pushed you away, Thomas. You’re right. You’re always right goddamnit.” He breathed, shaking his head, “You always know what’s right, and I don’t…” Alex squeezed his eyes shut in agony, “I don’t LISTEN to you.” He sobbed, letting the pain rack his whole body.   
The Virginian didn't stir.

“I lied to you. I used you. I let myself tear you apart and actually had the fucking nerve to tell myself that it was for the best.” Alex winced at his own words. How… painfully TRUTHFUL they were. And it hurt to finally realize the things he had done. 

Alexander paused, letting himself take a deep breath. Staring at the back of Thomas’s head of perfect, lovely dark hair made him remember everything that had been fading. 

“Even the first time, you made everything perfect and--and gave me the key.” Alex laughed through his tears, letting the bittersweet memory fill him up. He saw Thomas move just the slightest amount at the mention, and it gave him hope. 

“I ran away, and when I came back I didn’t…” Alex looked up at the ceiling and gulped for the millionth time, exhaling a shuddering breath.   
“I didn’t APOLOGIZE. I never understood how STUPID I was.” Alexander punched each word with gritted teeth, desperately needing to make Thomas understand. And now the tears were flooding, a wave of emotion ripping through Alexander, making him hardly able to speak. 

And then everything was quiet. 

“And you… let me come back.” Alexander spoke softly, lifting his gaze from the ground up to his lover. The realization hit him. 

“You… chose me again and again because that’s what you DO, Thomas.” Alexander spoke louder, gesturing with his shaking hands, “That’s what you do. You-you-” Alex breathed fluttering breaths as he reached the incoherent part of his sobbing where nothing comes out cleanly. But this wasn’t meant to be pretty. 

“You let me back in and you do it again and again and again because you somehow find a way to look past all of my fucking screw-ups.” He spoke all in one breath.

“Because you loved me.” He breathed, closing his eyes gently, letting the words fill up his mind and his heart.  
Tears slipped down even through closed eyes. 

“And I never deserved that from you.” Alexander whispered. 

The longest time of silence yet dragged on, but as far as Alexander knew, it could have just been a moment. Neither one breathed, neither one spoke. Neither one moved. There was only rain. 

“I understand now. Thomas.” Alexander sobbed softly, shaking his head even though he couldn’t see him, “If you never want to set eyes on me again. I understand. I’m a liar. I cheated you and used you and fucking pushed you away when in reality you’re the ONLY damn thing that mattered.” Alex rambled, silent tears soaking his cheeks. 

He sniffled and his breath futtered. His lips were parted. This was his moment. 

“But God, if this is the last time I get to say something to you, I need you to know. I need you to fucking know that I never lied. When I said it.” Alexander, bit his lip and squeezed his eyes shut, feeling his heart break all over again.

“Every time I said I loved you was the truest damned thing I ever said.” 

He was silent. Alexander watched Thomas’s back. The man looked like a cold, stone statue. Unmoving in the night. Alexander couldn’t deny that something… a tiny breath of hope remained alive in his heart, begging with its last words for Thomas to turn around. 

But as time passed and and rain fell.... He didn’t. He never did. 

And Alexander just had to… close his eyes, an overwhelming sense of both grief and clarity washing over his entire being. And he lowered his head, nodding slowly in understanding. 

This was it. This was his goodbye. He had said everything that he could, but he was still too late. He was too late… 

As he turned agonizingly away, leaving everything behind, so did Thomas. 

Alex stopped dead in his tracks. Freezing. It couldn’t be.   
His broken heart fluttered, that one little sliver of hope beginning to spread, growing and expanding in his chest. Lips parted in disbelief, tears still falling without even blinking, Alexander turned back around.

“Thomas…?” Alex spoke, unable to hide the emotion. Thomas’s dark eyes had their old glint of light restored in them. And tears were streaming down his face in a way Alexander had never seen in his life. Thomas never cried. He never did. And now, wet pearls of pure emotion were positively gushing down his face. His beautiful, beautiful face that Alexander loved. 

Thomas just shook his head. 

And then he was taking steps towards Alexander. Slow at first, but speeding up. Alex’s heart positively wept, and he moved towards Thomas too. In a second, they were running at each other, full speed, summer night through their hair and not even caring if they ran into each other. 

Not even caring. 

And then they were together. Alexander collided right into Thomas, but the bigger man pulled his momentum into his arms, wrapping him up so tight Alex couldn’t breathe, and once again, he couldn’t care less. He sobbed, ugly crying all over the place, a total mess as Thomas grappled at Alex’s shirt, his hair, anything and everything to make sure it was real. 

And then he was pulling Alexander up, holding him by the waist and spinning them around once, twice, the little one wrapping his legs around Thomas’s strong hips on instinct, tangling his hands in Thomas’s hair, weeping into his neck. 

“Thomas.” he sobbed, sniffling, an absolute wreck. But Thomas shut him up immediately, finding his lips and pressing so deeply into a kiss that made the both of them sigh and sob. Alexander melted in his arms, shaking pitifully but Thomas held him tight. 

Their lips opened and closed slowly on one another’s, remembering each other like it had been years. It must have been years. Their tears fell on each other’s faces and mixed, messy, wet, sloppy. And they didn’t care. 

“I love you…” Alexander managed to weep into Thomas’s mouth.   
“Shh…” Thomas hushed back, pulling him in closer. 

Forgiveness. 

The rain fell around them, silently into the fields that they couldn’t see out there in the summer night. It was just them and the rain. Two healing hearts. Forgiveness. 

And Martha Jefferson watched from the doorframe.


	40. Best of Wives and Best of Women

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Martha sees the two lovers kissing and runs back inside to tell Eliza. Thomas and Alexander follow close behind. Will they be able to justify their love? Will the girls confess about their own?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter coming right up! As always, your support means more than the world to me, thank every one of you so much!

Their kiss that they shared was long and tender… wet too, Thomas noted. Wet.  
Tears and way too much exchanged spit, but he didn’t believe that was a thing that existed anyway. Alexander sat heavily on his hips, whole warm little body pressed against him. And it was right. 

The two fit into each other’s frames like puzzle pieces, Thomas thought. It was like Alexander was built specifically for him. If the man would damn obey him half the time, though, that would be a bonus. But he could just fuck that for now and live in the moment. This moment. 

It really HIT him that he’d genuinely believed that he could never have Alexander back again. He couldn’t let himself. And now the man had understood all of his mistakes, all of his stupid fucking mistakes and he was truly sorry. And he had found all of that out himself. Independently. No more trying to hammer it into him. He had just... understood. 

If anyone had told Thomas a day ago that Alexander would ever be in his arms again, he would have sneered in their face. And that is heartbreaking. 

And now he was his. All his. His to keep, his to love, and kiss and make love to. All of these thoughts swelling up inside him like a rising tidal wave made him break away from Alexanders lips at once with a hot breath, moving down to pepper his jawline. 

“Nooo… Thomas.” Alex whined poutily, trying to fit Thomas’s swollen lips back onto his but Thomas rolled his eyes and ignored him, he had to kiss Alex all over.   
He worked all across his jawline and chin, kissing his cheekbones and behind his ear all the way down his neck. Gently placing kisses on his delicate throat and desperately wanting to find his collarbone but under his cravat and coat. He’d have to wait, and he was not a man accustomed to waiting. 

Alexander fussed, wanting Thomas’s lips on his, but Thomas was busy and there was nothing he could really do. He would always be a brat, Thomas thought. But he was HIS brat. His stupid little whiny, hotheaded, stubborn, viciously impatient brat. And he loved him. He was his to punish, his to fuss over and bicker with and scold and LOVE.

The emotion swelled up again, and Thomas balled up Alex’s shirt with his strong fists, pressing him so tightly to his own body that Alexander squeaked. The sound was priceless. 

“Ow, dickhead my organs.” Alexander kicked Thomas lightly in the butt with his legs that were wrapped around him and Thomas just laughed lightly and bit him sharply on his pulse point. Alexander gasped.   
“Hey!” he whisper shouted with gritted teeth. Thomas just rolled his eyes. 

“Stop whining, Alexander, or I’ll put you down.”   
Alex groaned in frustration and gave in, “No no no lips zipped. See. Zipped.”   
“Mmhm.” Thomas grunted placing a kiss on his lips and pulling away when Alexander opened them to push his tongue into Thomas’s mouth. 

“Thought you said zipped.” Thomas grunted, biting Alexander’s bottom lip and gazing directly into those watery, brown eyes, raising a dark eyebrow in mockery.   
“Oh, fuck you.”   
Thomas laughed lightly, adjusting Alexander in his arms. 

“Alright get down, you’re getting heavy and I’m not going to pull a shoulder.” Thomas let go of Alex, expecting him to slide down, but the little one just clung to him with arms and legs like a spider monkey, burying his face in Thomas’s neck. 

“Weak ass.” He spoke muffledly. Thomas was astounded at how Alex stuck to him like glue despite not holding him at all, but he managed to scoff in annoyance.   
“So you're telling me all this time I’ve been holding you, you could stay up yourself?” he sneered, inconvenienced. 

Alexander just hummed and kissed Thomas’s neck, gliding his tongue over the warm skin. The Virginian rolled his eyes, shaking his head in amused incredulity.   
“Down.” he grunted, grabbing Alex’s hips and pulling him away. With some difficulty he ripped Alexander off him like velcro, the little one landing on his feet and brushing himself off. 

Thomas took him in up and down, trying not to let his overwhelming love show in his eyes. Alex’s head would pop if it got any bigger. 

His hair was a wreck, his face was flushed and wet and his cravat was twisted. 

“C’mon, you unfortunate emotional disaster, they can’t see you like this.” Thomas straightened his coat, beginning to turn back towards the porch and walk. 

Alex had his eyes downcast, trying to fix his hopelessly twisted cravat as he walked.  
“You too, buddyboy.” Alex scoffed disgruntledly. Thomas would always think himself too pretty to be a mess, and hell, Alexander couldn’t lie and say he was wrong. 

“Oof! Hey, the fuck, Thomas?” Alex slurred, rubbing his jaw and cracking it back and forth. Thomas had stopped while his eyes were down and Alex bumped right into his back, an immovable wall, really. 

Thomas didn’t respond. Just stood still, shockingly still.   
“Hey.” Alex scoffed, walking around Thomas, but the man, jutted his arm out, yanking Alexander behind him and not letting him go, holding him there. It was only when confused Alexander heard the voice did he realize that Thomas had instinctively tried to hide and shield him. But it was no use. 

“Thomas…” The voice breathed. The tone was one that had no name, somewhere between a shocked breath and positive wrath. 

Martha Jefferson. 

Alexander had to lean into Thomas’s protective arm not to faint. He swayed.   
Holy shit, he was seeing spots. This couldn’t be happening. 

Thomas caught Alexander last moment, pulling him to his side and propping him there, he could feel the little one gasping for air against him and he tried to shield him as best as he possibly could. He wanted to make Alexander wasn’t going to pass out but he currently had another, horrific problem on his hands. 

“Martha.” he sputtered out before he could compose himself back to his usual manner. He didn’t even know if he could now. This was disastrous, this was cataclysmic, this was CATASTROPHIC. The world was falling in on itself, crumbling and crushing around them. And there was nothing Thomas could do to stop it. To protect Alexander. 

The short woman was standing with a hand on each side of the door frame, trying to hold HERself up too. She was equally in shock, but she tried to hold it down firmly as she did everything else. The blonde’s jaw dropped nevertheless.

She gasped, “I knew it…” She began breathlessly, slowly taking a step back into the room. She threw her chin in the air, trying to hold in her emotion and mask it. Thomas shook his head and made to step forward, but Alexander was still clinging to him. All Thomas could do was gesture desperately with his hands. 

“Martha…” He began carefully as if not to frighten her off. Her face just screw up in rage.   
“I KNEW it!” her voice grew to a shrieking shout as she took quicker steps backwards, pointing at Thomas as if she were warding him off, keeping him away. 

“Martha wait.” Thomas growled taking a step forth, but this seemed to push her away, snapping her out of her shock. The little woman whirled around and disappeared into the house in a flurry of green silk.   
“MARTHA.” Thomas boomed, trying to walk forward but Alexander was still gripping to him for dear life. He made a frustrated noise and turned to Alex briefly. 

“Alexander, honey, come on, please.” He commanded firmly, looking for those brown eyes. Alex looked up in pure shock.  
“She found us…” He spoke, face petrified, “They found us.It’s over.” 

“Don’t say that.” Thomas interrupted, snagging Alex’s arm and yanking him forward, moving towards the door, “Don’t fucking say something like that. We need to go, come on.” he grunted shortly, pulling Alexander back into the threshold and into their bedroom. Alex stumbled in behind him, able to control his own feet now but his heart was hammering at a million miles an hour.

Thomas looked around frantically and heard voices in the parlor. Running a hand through his hair he set off in that direction, making sure Alex was behind him. Together, they burst into the room. This whole situation felt like they had walked from a fantasy right through the gates of a nightmare. This couldn't be happening.

The two skidded into the room, stopping side by side and finding themselves face to face with the two women.  
The door slowly swung shut behind them. And there was silence. A deafening silence of beating hearts and heavy breathing. And drastic emotion all around. 

Thomas and Alexander’s faces were painted with dread, and Eliza sat on the couch, hand over her mouth. She looked down at her dress numbly as if Martha had just told her and their entrance had proved everything.

And Martha was LIVID. 

“How COULD you?!” She positively spat, some of her hair falling out of the neat clip and falling around her pretty face, contorted with rage. Thomas racked his hand through his hair again. 

“Martha, you need to fucking-”   
“DON’T you DARE tell me to fucking anything!” She screamed letting her fists clench and fall on her dress, stomping a foot so hard the floor vibrated, “And I’m not talking to you, BASTARD, I don’t care about YOU.” She snarled. The strong language shocked Alexander. How could so much rage come out of one shrieking woman?

But Alex didn’t have time to contemplate as she whirled on him, red face, gritting her teeth. His heart plummeted into his stomach.   
“You…” She hissed through those clenched teeth, quieter and seemingly cooling down. But that was quickly false as her rage built up in her expression once more and overflowed.  
She lunged for Alexander and smacked into him, hammering her firsts over and over again on his chest. 

“How…! Dare…! You…! Do! This! To! Her!” She pounded, Alex flailing wildly for her wrists, but Thomas had immediately dived into action, seizing Martha by the waist and hauling her backwards, dragging her away from the body she was trying to claw at. Alex just stood there in shock against the door, panting. Pretty shaken up. 

Thomas restrained Martha’s arms against her chest and held her so that she couldn’t twist around. She was sobbing in her rage now. She kicked at Thomas furiously.   
“Get your FILTHY hands off of me!” she cried, writhing. And she actually tried to kick Thomas in the groin. Alexander watched in horror, feeling his own temper rise.

“Don’t touch him!” Alex spat making a move for the two of them but Thomas snarled back a response.  
“Alexander get back, you won’t fucking help.” He tried to still Martha in his arms but the fierce girl was hard to conquer. Finally he growled close to her ear.   
“Martha, stop this madness, you’re going to fucking hurt yourself.” She grunted and he finally let her free; the frazzled girl stumbled out of his arms and backed up towards the couch that Eliza was sitting on.

Through all of this chaos, nobody had been paying attention to what the brunette was doing. She just sat quietly, tears streaming from wide her eyes as she kept her hand over her mouth, watching this all play out. 

The two sides stared each other off for a few tense seconds, everyone waiting to see if the fiery little blonde, who was strikingly like Alexander when it came to irrationalness, was going to make another move. But she didn’t she only stayed close to Eliza, panting. 

And then a tiny voice spoke up. 

“Is it true?” 

Alex looked around, shaken up, and his eyes fell on Eliza. His brows furrowed in concern at the sight of her. Silent tears streamed down her pretty face as she slowly lowered her hand from her mouth. Alexander’s lips sputtered for words, looking from her to Martha’s livid glare up to Thomas, floundering. 

“Thomas...?” he asked, looking for the taller to tell him what to say. Usually the immigrant would fling around his arrogant initiative, but he simply couldn’t. He couldn’t say it to Eliza with all of these eyes on him. Thomas caught his eye and then looked back to Martha, raising his chin authoritatively and breathing in deeply. 

“Alright, I know the both of you are confused, upset, in shock.” he began carefully, coaxing the girls to look at him, “But… can we please sit down and discuss this like adults instead of clawing at each other like rabid alleycats.” Alexander could sense Thomas holding back a signature sneer. Martha just screwed up her mouth at him, but luckily she didn’t say anything. 

Alexander realized it was because Eliza had reached out a hand to subtly lay it over Martha’s. 

“Thank you.” Thomas spoke, moving slowly to pull up a chair as if skeptical that Martha would leap on him as soon as his back was turned. But she did not, just sat at Eliza’s side and watched as Thomas pulled over the plush chairs, one for himself and Alexander. 

The immigrant felt so incredibly awkward. Just sitting there next to Thomas as their wives stared at them. He squirmed in his seat. This woman that he didn’t even know had attacked him like a deranged animal and now his wife was crying and it wasn’t even past eight o clock. 

Alex’s eyes flicked to the clock that must be ticking louder than a usual clock. Of course it was all in his head. This was hell.  
Martha just glared at him. 

He looked to Thomas, waiting for him to make the first move, but Thomas didn’t look at him, already on it. He looked to each of them individually.  
“Elizabeth, Martha.” He drawled slowly. His tongue darted between his lips, trying to come up with something and maintain his naturally calm demeanor. 

“What my wife just witnessed was…” he began carefully. And for a moment, Alexander’s “trust no one” walls flew up and he thought Thomas was about to deny what had happened. Would that be better? He had no idea at this point. The evening had already taken so many twists and turns he could hardly comprehend that it was one day; it felt like some surreal dream.

“Was not an illusion of any sort.” Thomas finished with a sigh, nodding with closed eyes and pursing his lips quickly. Martha looked away from him as if disgusted. 

“I knew it…” She seethed, but Eliza squeezed her tiny hand, calming her from shouting.  
“Martha...” She breathed quietly, enough to keep her calm. Thomas waited a moment before he continued. Alex squirmed, feeling like he should butt in and help Thomas but as usual, the bigger had it covered. 

“Alexander and I have been,” He coughed slightly, just enough for his partner to pick up on it, “Having an affair.” He nodded, “For almost a month. Three weeks and three days.” Eliza tensed up for a moment at the true sound of the words. The true confession, naked in front of them. Somehow, being Thomas, he appeared unfazed, sitting tall and proper in his chair with that unwavering voice. 

“Neither one of us expected this to happen, and we discovered this…” He paused, looking to Alex with those beautiful dark eyes.   
“Attraction.” Alexander found the perfect word; he always had a way with them. 

“Attraction.” Thomas repeated, “In a moment of emotional shock and turmoil for the both of us.”   
The girls were confused by his words, but Thomas plowed on anyway, desperate to get his point out, desperate for them to understand. All under a peacefully stern and calm personality.   
“I commanded Alexander come here and he did not expect anything out of the ordinary. But I sat him down against his will and made him come up with rules for a continued relationship. An affair that was strictly aromantic.” 

Alexander's heart began to speed up in his chest.   
Wait.   
Wait, no.

He turned his face to Thomas, who refused to look at him. No. 

Thomas continued in that cold voice, “So therefore, if you are to alert the authorities, you’re going to tell them it was I that committed the crime, not Secretary Hamilton.” Thomas spoke, voice even as if he were making a business arrangement. 

Alex’s. Heart. Fell. He started to panic.

“Thomas, don’t-!” he began, turning his whole body in his creaking seat, but Thomas ignored him completely.   
“Alexander had nothing to do with my long term intentions. He is not guilty and never has been.” 

“No!” Alexander interrupted, turning now to the girls, realizing that Thomas was not going to stop… he was throwing himself on the sword for Alexander. And now the immigrant found himself doing the same completely out of the blue. 

The women stared at him, shocked faces not knowing what to think.   
“Thomas is a fucking liar, he doesn’t know a damn thing he’s saying. Just-” Alex shook his head in frustration with his stupid partner, “I’m the one who agreed to the rules. I initiated the repeated visitations.” He gestured with frantic hands, “It wasn’t fucking Thomas-”   
“Alexander don’t you dare-” 

“Shut the FUCK up, Jefferson.” Alexander spat, not looking at him.  
“NO, Alexander.” He boomed, making Alex flinch, but the fiery little one disobeyed the clear warning like he always did, and kept pushing onwards. 

“Thomas said it had to be an isolated aromantic event, but I didn’t fucking listen.” He was speaking so rapidly now, he feared he would stumble on words, “I fell in love with him within a week and forced him into something more than he wanted.” 

At this point, Thomas stood from his seat, and he was addressing the girls just as Alexander was. Their faces turned from Alex to Thomas in synch, both shocked and upset as they rightfully should be. 

“Fucking bullshit.” Thomas roared, unable to control himself, “He’s being a damn idiot like always, don’t fucking listen to him.” 

Thomas searched his mind, “I have letters that prove my point.”   
“No he doesn’t!” Alexander interjected, stumbling to stand in front of him and block him from their sight, accidentally knocking a stack of books off the coffee table. “He burned them as he should have.” 

Thomas finally turned his emotionless face to Alex, hiding his utter shock.

“How did you…?” But the immigrant didn’t care, he was intent on his goal. He wouldn’t budge.  
“He has no proof.” Alex panted, looking into each of their faces frantically, “You can’t listen to him, he’s a fucking incompetent moron.” 

“Hamilton…” Jefferson growled a warning, but Alex’s mind was already clouded with fear of loss.   
“I forced him into this mess that he’s tangled in. he’s too fucking proud to realize-” 

“ENOUGH!” A voice shrieked. 

It rang through the room.   
Alex’s head and Thomas’s both snapped to the tiny woman who had produced the sound, and fell silent. She looked from face to face, as the quiet settled upon them, tense and crackling. Alexander’s heart thudded with surprise.

It was Eliza. 

The brunette woman stood daintily, calmly despite her heaving chest, and stared at both of them.   
“Enough.” she spoke again, in that wavering little voice of hers that was more usual. Maybe she had surprised herself as well as everyone in the room.   
“I’m not going to alert anyone.” She spoke, gesturing with her hands. 

Alexander’s stomach lurched, leaving him breathless.  
“What?” 

“I said.” Eliza raised her chin in the air, uncomfortable with the eyes on her but trying to ward off her fear. Martha stood up beside her and squeezed Martha’s hand, “WE’re not going to alert anyone.” their fingers intertwined and Eliza’s eyes remained downcast as everyone looked at her. She nodded solemnly for a moment, taking a deep, long, shaky breath. 

She let it out and raised her brown eyes to Alexander’s. There was confusion written all over them.   
“Liza…?” He felt his adrenaline pumping. 

“You’re…” She began, darting a glance to Martha and then back to the floor, “Not the only one who has a secret to keep.” she spoke quietly, face burning, a tear slipping down her cheek and off to rest in her dress. After what felt like a dragging, silent, eternity, she raised her eyes back to Alexander. 

“Alexander…”   
The man looked to his boyfriend who’s dark eyes were just as confused, but the glance reassured him that things were going to be okay somehow. 

“Eliza, what is it.” He spoke, trying not to sound impatient as he was. He had little tolerance for waiting.

She swallowed and took another deep breath, finding Alex’s eyes.   
“Martha and I have been having an affair while we were away upstate.” 

The whole room fell under a silence so heavy, it was stifling. It rang around them and in them. Thomas and Alexander gaped, whole world doing a backflip. They had no words, so Martha tried to break the agonizing silence instead. Her voice was stronger and more firm than Eliza’s. 

“Quit your gaping, we didn’t expect it to happen. Being away from your usual world can do unexpected things.” She reasoned, still having a defensive and accusatory note in her voice, scowling at Alexander.   
“Over time I realized, as a woman who knows what she wants, that I wanted this Elizabeth.” Martha shrugged, “And she wanted me.” Eliza nodded to the floor. 

“And so one thing led to another and things got better and then.” She finally looked up to her husband, posture as stiff as a board.   
“And then you got injured.” Thomas twitched his brows in that dangerous way that meant someone needed to watch their tone. 

“And I had to leave her to come look after you. And then… HE came.” Martha tilted her head, gesturing to Alexander as if he was an unmentionable piece of vermin.   
Alexander scowled at the insufferable woman, wanting to have a go at it but staying silent for Thomas. 

“And I knew something was going on. I went upstate to bring Eliza back. To find out what you two were playing at.” 

“So this whole fucking night was a setup.” Alexander interjected loudly, spitting in aggression. His patience had worn off. He looked her up and down with contempt, “The early return. The dinner. It’s all just bullshit so your ass can spy on us.” Alex scoffed. 

Thomas shot him a look that told him to back down, and Alex stopped talking to look at the ceiling and fume clenching irritated fists.   
“He’s being a bitch. Let him be.” Thomas addressed Martha who was ready to snarl back at the offense. 

“Yes, this was meant to sort out what you were up to, but we didn’t even know what the hell we were expecting, let alone what we’d do if we’d found out half the shit we just found out.”   
Martha shook her head in frustration, but it quickly turned to exasperated exhaustion.  
Letting go of Eliza’s hand, she collapsed back down onto the couch, leaning into it. They watched her as she rubbed her temples. She was clearly trying to sort all of the loose, swirling thoughts in her mind. They all were. 

After nearly five minutes of silence, they had all sat back down in their seats, staring blankly at floors or walls in the awkwardness. The parlor was silent. Night had long since fallen over the house, and everyone was a tired wreck. Martha’s blonde hair stuck out of her clips, Eliza still had tear streaks, and the boys were no better. 

Martha pinched her nose and actually laughed slightly. Eyes turned to her and she heaved a sigh looking up.   
“What are we supposed to do now?” She spoke lifting her arms and letting them fall back on her dress. 

“What ACTUALLY are we supposed to do now? What are the odds that… THIS happens in the span of a month?” She shook her head incredulously, “This still feels like a dream you wake up from and wonder what the hell you took before bed.” 

Alex scoffed weakly and bobbed his head.  
“Yeah, no shit.” He actually agreed with the woman he had grown to dislike, but didn’t look at her. They were all silent for a minute more. Probably because all of them, each and every one knew exactly the solution. It almost fit too perfectly. Thomas shook his head and piped up annoyed with the hesitation. 

“Well we’re all thinking it, I’m just saying it.” He tried not to sneer, “We all know what we want to do. How we want this night to end, I know damn well I do. Am I wrong?” He dictated the conversation authoritatively.

They took a moment to consider. They knew in their hearts that Thomas was right. They had someone in this room that they each wanted to be with, and it wasn’t the person they were married to. But could they take that step? 

And the question was answered. 

“No.” Eliza spoke softly, looking at the floor as if her own words had shocked her. She turned her face up to Thomas, “No. You're not wrong.” She nodded firmly. The brunette looked at Martha. HER Martha and something in her heart stirred. She smiled and took her hand. 

“It’s going to be dangerous. We all know that everything we’re doing is dangerous; we're not stupid.” She sighed, “But that’s a risk I’m willing to take if… you all. Are.” She coughed lightly in burning embarrassment, wondering if she had been too bold, but Martha’s encouraging glance and nod made her realize that she had quite possibly said just the right thing. 

“No.” Martha squeezed back, “Of course it’ll be perilous to say the least, but she’s right. It’s something we all have to do; we can’t go back to how things were. Not anymore.” Martha reasoned. The truth was tough, but it needed to be said. “I don’t even want that.” 

“Elizabeth.” Thomas spoke out of the blue as if he couldn't wait anymore, his cool voice soft and polite nevertheless. 

Eliza looked at him, a bit startled at being addressed but she gave him he attention despite that.   
“I want your permission to your husband. Something I should have never taken, but it seems now I have a chance to ask.” he spoke aristocratically, his up-town instincts kicking in. But there was love in his eyes.   
“I’m going to take care of him.” Thomas promised, and Alexander knew it was genuine. 

Alexander reached over and Thomas stroked the back of Alexander's hand with a large thumb, brushing the skin. Eliza watched and her breath hitched not used to this. But… she understood. Understood how Alexander felt, because she was feeling it too. She looked over at Martha, warmth spreading in her twinkling eyes. Martha...

“Yes. I do.” She spoke, “I do.” Martha could no longer hold back her own soft smile and welling up eyes, but the woman was far too proud, like her husband, to let them come through just yet.   
“And to your wife, Mr. Jefferson?” Eliza surprised herself and Thomas by being so bold to make that request, but Thomas only nodded his consent.   
“You are both intelligent in magnificently different ways. You’ll be happy together.” 

And now it was up to Martha. One more person to convince. 

She took a deep breath, the struggle to keep her resentment down was clear, but she was trying to work through this, and that was what mattered. Eliza was what mattered. She was going to be with Eliza and if she could simply get over herself, she could make this easier. Just get over herself and think about Eliza. She could do this. 

“You too.” She managed. And that was be enough. 

It felt like the entire world had realized it was holding its breath... and let it go. Ever so slowly, ever so gently. Swaying the dripping, waxy leaves of the trees outside in the dark. The four of them let their breath go, let everything go. Let the realization slowly settle in.

Things were going to be okay. The shock wouldn’t be easy to comprehend yet, but it would. It would. 

Martha stood.   
“Alexander, would you allow me to take my trunk and Eliza home?” She asked quietly, “We’ll get there safe.” 

“Yeah. Of course.” Alexander nodded, finding a soft smile on his face, “That’s good.”   
Martha managed to tuck her hair behind her ear and guide Eliza to the bedroom to get her things. The two girls stood and clunked through the door and moved around inside the room, getting their things ready. 

And now it was just Thomas and Alexander. There was no way they could keep their hands off of each other, not when to recently reunited. 

“Thomas.” Alexander sighed the name as his taller partner stood and stopped in front of him. Those dark brown eyes and heavy, sharp eyebrows gazed down on him. Thomas placed his hand on Alexander’s knees, leaning in and rubbing, massaging deeply. 

Alexander hummed at the feeling, but he wanted Thomas closer to him.   
“Try to be patient, you twink.” Thomas drawled, eyebrows twitching, but Alex just stood.   
“Yeah, no.” he breathed, wrapping his arms around Thomas’s firm waist, pulling his body against his partner’s. 

Thomas couldn’t help but wrap him up, placing his head on top of Alex’s, rocking them both gently side to side.  
“And I’m not a twink.” He spoke muffledly from inside Thomas’s embrace. The bigger only squeezed him too hard and grunted.   
“Mhm. Right.” He rolled his eyes, “Twink.”   
“Not a twink.” 

He heard the girls coming back through the parlor, “We’ll finish this discussion later.” Thomas spoke under his breath and let Alexander go, turning to face their wives. The two were actually flushed and smiling. It was obvious that they had been sharing some kissing, and Alexander couldn’t decide whether that was weirding him out or if he even had the right to be weirded out. 

They were breathless and both held one end of Martha’s trunk.   
“You two got that?” Thomas confirmed smoothing back his perfect hair. They nodded enthusiastically. 

“We’ll be good.” Eliza spoke, finding Alexander’s eyes with a deep happiness in them. And Alexander’s heart throbbed in bittersweet joy as well. He knew she meant that for more than just his moment. She was reassuring him. She was telling him that his closest companion was going to be alright. Everything was going to be alright. 

And he nodded back, sure that the same look was in his own eye.   
He understood. And the night with Thomas wasn't near over.


	41. Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bathtub massage, wild sex, a profession of love. How could anything be so perfect. But as the next day approaches, how will Thomas tell Alexander about his deal with Burr? How will Alex take it? How will he call it off without risking everything they have built together?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi loves!! Stay tuned for next chapter; you are all amazing! <3

Alexander looked up at Thomas, who’s eyes were closed peacefully, and winced.   
“But what if the neighbors notice something. If they see me coming in and out?” 

Thomas didn’t even open his eyes, just drawled annoyedly, “The neighbors won’t notice, Alexander.” Alex shuffled down in the tub again, letting his legs intertwine with Thomas’s under the water. There were gentle dripping sounds of the warm bath for a bit as the two laid quietly. 

Alex suddenly turned his whole body, water sloshing in reverberating waves in the tub, some going over the side.   
“Yeah but what if they see our carriage every morning? Or no, what about MY neighbors. What if they see Martha?” Thomas finally cracked his eyes half open. 

“You’re getting water on my damn floor.” He sneered boredly. Alexander just pressed closer, their wet nakedness sliding against one another and making it hard to STAY pressed together. Alex was resilient, however. He turned his brown puppy dog eyes up to Thomas, who looked down into them with irritation. 

They stared at each other for a moment.   
“What?” Thomas clipped. Alexander didn’t respond, just bit his lip in a way that made Thomas want to both hug him and ask what was wrong and round on him and fuck his pretty ass mercilessly. So he found an inbetween and rolled his eyes, pulling Alexander up onto his lap by his hips. He didn’t resist. 

They were both slippery and more water sloshed, but that was okay. Alex slid into place, his thighs wrapped around Thomas’s waist and the other man sighed, holding him there, letting him settle down. He was still biting his lip and Thomas held himself back. 

“What is it, baby?” Thomas purred, running his thumbs up Alex’s sharp hip bones at a crawling pace. He placed a warm kiss on his collarbone and then looked into those eyes, “Hm?” 

Alex squirmed in his lap,   
“...And what if someone comes knocking and I answer the doo--hmmh!”   
Thomas shut Alexander up with his mouth, pushing through his lips and biting Alex’s tongue, pulling it into his mouth. Alexander leaned into it, HARD, trying to press his tongue deeper, but Thomas pulled away agonizingly with a wet sound. 

Alexander glared at him but Thomas spoke before his boyfriend could, dark, soaked hair and brows framing his face, “You need to shut up. My damn ears are gonna fall off.” he drawled, some water droplets falling onto his shoulders.   
“Hey, jackass, what if-”   
“Alexander.” Thomas cut him off rudely, “You need to chill your tits.”   
“I don’t have tits.”  
“Chill your ass, I don’t know.” Thomas scoffed in inconvenience. The aloof prick. He moved his fingers to slide around his hip bones to his back, lightly tracing Alexander’s spine. 

“Chill something, because not only are you annoying the fuck out of me, but you’re wrong.”  
Alex tried to respond but instead shivered at the touch, pure pleasure.  
“Everything is going to be okay. We’ll find a way to make this work. We already have.” 

Alexander sighed tiredly at the consolation and concentrated on the feeling of Thomas touching his body, shuddering in delight.   
“You like that?” Thomas grumbled with that deep voice, gliding his lubricated fingertips up and down the part of the spine between Alex’s shoulder blades. He shuddered again unable to help a smile spreading on his face.   
“No.” he positively purred, draping himself over Thomas so he was laying on top of him, head over Thomas’s shoulder and the rest of his body leaning on him. He closed his eyes and hummed. 

“Yes, I can see how much you hate this.” Thomas mocked in an annoyed tone, but how could he possibly be annoyed at Alexander right now? Laying on top of him in the warm, lavender scented candlelight, the hot bath around both of their bodies. This was like a sweet, dimly lit dream and Alexander was beautiful.

Thomas used both hands to lightly brush over Alex’s back, straying away from his spine to map his shoulder blades and each of his ribs, brushing over them in long, sweeping strokes. Alex tried to hold down giggles as Thomas touched him. He’d been starving for this. He needed this.

Thomas sighed and drew a thumb up under Alex’s shoulder blade, but then his breath caught. He stopped, pressing there again.  
He scowled at Alexander, dark brows furrowing in.

“What the hell is this?” He asked, not waiting for an answer as he kept pressing, feeling around the spot too.   
“Wh- Jesus Christ Alexander.” he scoffed in surprise, probing all around his upper back and pausing. The little one didn’t look up. 

“Ow. OW! Thomas!” He jerked, flailing a bit but Thomas hooked his legs so Alex couldn’t move.   
“Your back is riddled with knots.” Thomas sneered, finding another one, eyes widening, “Fucking hell, have you been hauling bricks? I’ve never seen anything like this.” he poked him sharply, testing the taut muscle. 

“OW! What the hell, man?!” Alex complained, squirming, but Thomas held him still. Thomas ignored his whining protests.   
“This is ridiculous, I’m fixing this.” Thomas grunted, sitting up, water streamed out of his slick, black hair. Alexander tried to pin him down but Thomas overpowered him without much difficulty, standing from the water and letting it stream down his legs. 

“Hey. Where do you think you’re going?” Alex spoke from the tub, slowly sitting up as well. His face was soon covered by a thick towel that Thomas had thrown at him.   
“Put your head on this.” 

Alexander just stared at him in confusion.   
“I’m sorry, what?” he scoffed, laughing. 

“Put the thing that sits on your neck on top of the thing I just threw at it.” Thomas explained slowly, approaching the tub again. Alexander’s mouth watered at the sight of him. Lean, tanned body, and his dark, powerful eyes. 

“Why’re you looking at me the way you looked at dinner tonight?” Thomas asked, stepping back into the tub with a small splash.   
“Cause I want both of you in my mouth” Alexander spoke, unable to keep himself from staring at Thomas’s cock. So deliciously sizeable.   
“That was painful.” Thomas grunted at the joke, getting settled in the water. He crossed his arms and looked Alexander up and down. “ You’re wondering my length again, aren’t you.” He spoke flatly, blinking, extremely unimpressed. 

Alexander made a little shocked noise, “Of course not.” He gasped, but he couldn’t suppress a smile.   
“Mhm. Get on your belly. I know you can do that one, darling.”   
“Oh, fuck you.” 

Alexander lowered himself down into the sloshing, warm bath, rolling up the towel and placing his chin on it with a sigh. Thomas placed his warm, large palms on Alex’s shoulders, pressing down heavily on the little one’s body. He swung one long leg over Alex so he was straddling the back of his thighs . 

“Wow, not even going to loosen me up?” Alex’s muffled voice sounded as he took a bit of the towel between his teeth, biting down on it as he knew to do, “I get it, you want me.” Alexander slurred arrogantly with the fabric between his teeth. The pressure of Thomas’s hands lessened a bit as the man above him leered. 

He curled his lip, sneering, “You’re unbelievable, Alexander. Truly.”   
“Huh?”   
“I’m fixing all these damn tennis ball-sized knots in your back, bitch, not fucking you.” He rolled his eyes, gliding the heels of his palms up each side of Alex’s spine, beginning near his ass. His spine actually crackled like old parchment. 

Thomas stopped once he had made it to Alex’s neck and sat back on his heels, astounded, mouth wide open in disbelief. This was worse than he'd thought.  
“I’m sorry, how old are you, Alexander?” Thomas shook his head incredulously. Alex moaned weaky beneath him. 

“Do that again, babe, holy shit.” he slurred.   
“Alright, you know what.” Thomas sighed at the task at hand, tossing his chin in the air sternly as usual, “You’re getting a full body massage and if you whine and cry and squirm I don’t care. What the hell are these from?” Thomas demanded, doing the same thing with his palms once more just to hear Alex moan. 

“Hello? Dead or alive?” He inquired once he had finished.   
“Man, I don’t know.”  
“What are these knots from?” Thomas began to rub his large thumbs in synch over each shoulder blade, working his way to finding the tense areas.  
“I dunno.” Alex spoke lazily.

Thomas rolled his eyes for a moment and pressed into a particularly sensitive area of tension. If there was anything he knew, it was how to play Alexander like a fiddle, torturing him perfectly. 

“OW!” Alex yelped, half moaning because they both knew how he was about his pain, “Thomas!”   
“Quit getting horny, what’re these knots from?” Thomas drizzled some more water over his back and continued to find the bunches of muscle digging into them and working into the stringy things with his strong fingers. 

“Probably… Just… Hng!.... Stress.” Alexander grunted, lip curled and wincing as Thomas did his thing, rocking Alex’s whole body with his massaging. But he had to admit, the guy was good. Those fingers just kept digging into him mercilessly but Alex knew it was for the best. 

“Well,” Thomas growled lowly, getting particularly deep into one stubborn gnarl, “I’m not letting this happen again. It’s a goddamn mess back here, you have no idea.”   
“Oh, I-- fuck!--Have an idea.” He gritted his teeth, trying not to writhe.  
“Quit your bellyaching and relax yourself for me. It’ll make it easier on both of us.” Alex jerked again and Thomas lessened his intensity, moving to rub up and down his ribs instead. Alex heaved a sigh at the release and let himself go limp. 

“Breathe, mon jouet.” Thomas instructed, firm but kind as he slowly, slowly glided his warm hands up and down Alex’s sides. He knew Alexander’s body. He knew the way it moved when he was scared and tense, when he was sleepy or curious. He knew the way it twitched and quivered, the way he breathed and laughed and orgasmed. Alexander’s body was something he knew how to take care of. And he was going to do just that.

He continued to brush the back of his nails up and down Alexander’s ribs, water trickling around his fingers. With one open palm, he pressed on Alexander’s back and trailed it down, cracking at least two vertebrae as he did so.   
“Thomas…” the name died on Alexander’s lips, the little one letting his head collapse onto the towel. Thomas could feel his muscles relaxing under his touch, and he glided up the other hand to begin rubbing in gentle circles over the gnarly shoulders, not overwhelming him.

With the hand that was down by Alexander’s tailbone, he trailed his fingers over Alex’s crack, letting him shiver and gasp. 

“Shh…” Thomas did it a few more times, “I’m going to ease you up down here so I can relieve the stress. But I need you to breathe for me, okay?” Thomas asked pressing two fingers and holding just outside of Alexander’s entrance. He waited patiently for an answer; Thomas wasn’t the one who needed this, he could wait.

Alexander breathed a deep breath and let himself completely fall away, let any leftover walls and stress he was carrying from the past two days flow out through his lungs. He nodded, and Thomas continued massaging his tense shoulders. 

“Good boy. Just like that.” He mumbled, leaning forward to plant a gentle kiss on Alex’s back, who shivered at the praise; he reacted so beautifully to it. Being in water, it was easy to slip two fingers into Alexander. Thomas monitored Alex’s reactions carefully as he pushed his long fingers in and then held there for a few moments. The little one relaxed so Thomas could rub and work out a knot, but in a minute, Alex was squirming on his hand just a bit.

“Don’t get yourself worked up.” He rumbled lowly, pumping his fingers out gently and then back in, “Just feel me, baby, I know it’s hard. You’re being good.” Alex could have whimpered at the pleasure of being praised. Thomas really HAD trained him up, hadn’t he? 

Thomas set into a steady rhythm with his fingers, not enough to get him riled up, but enough to make him sigh and open up for him. Alexander closed his eyes and let everything fall away, let Thomas take his body and do what he willed with it. Because Thomas knew how to treat him, how to handle him. 

The little one let his mind drift and just focused on the senses around him. The scent of lavender, the warm light of candles behind his eyelids, the feeling of rubbing between his shoulders and Thomas moving inside of him. It was bliss. 

He had no idea how long it had been of this before he heard Thomas sigh gently and pull away from his shoulders with one last rub. Alex stirred, opening his eyes just a bit for the first time in a while.   
“Mmm…” He hummed blissfully, letting his own body heave a relaxed sigh. Thomas ran his hands up and down Alexander’s upper arms, shifting around so that water sloshed.   
“How do you feel, love?” He grumbled quietly, tracing his fingers around so that he was following Alex’s collarbones under the water, ever so softly bringing him back to reality. 

“So good…” Alexander closed his eyes and breathed, slurring from pleasure.   
“Mm.” Thomas grunted, letting his fingers trail down to find the smaller’s nipples and brush over the sensitive area, “Well. You were good. Very, very adequate.” Thomas nodded in satisfaction. Alex was clearly interested in the contact. 

He squirmed as Thomas traced light, lazy circles.   
“Reward me, then.” Alex opened his eyes now, turning his head on its side to look up at Thomas towering above him. He looked impossibly irresistible, and he cocked an arrogant, offended eyebrow. 

“That.” Thomas shook his head, taking away the contact, “Is not how you talk to me.”   
Alex groaned softly, “Okay, sorry, Jesus...” he mumbled under his breath, placing his chin on the towel again. He took a deep breath and willed himself to be good for Thomas and ask nicely, but the Virginian wouldn’t have it. 

“What was that, Alexander?” He placed a large, menacing hand on the back of Alexander’s neck, not squeezing, just resting there in foreshadow. It was almost casual but they both knew what it meant. That made Alexander even more impatient with his dom; he shifted in the water and listened to it slosh. He was getting fairly restless.

“You’re being a jerk.” Alexander said exaggeratedly loud so that Thomas could hear him crystal clear. Thomas just let that hand rest on his neck and didn’t say anything at all. He let in a quiet sigh and rubbed the hand slightly. 

Alex didn’t know what to expect. Maybe Thomas would let it slide? 

Wrong. In one, sudden movement, Thomas’s hand slid up into Alex’s hair, tangling there and gripping so tight it hurt. The man lunged up to lay on Alexander’s back, crushing him slightly as water splashed out of the tub. Alex yelped and tried to kick him, but Thomas held him fast. 

Thomas pinned him down and leaned right next to Alexander’s ear, holding his head still no matter how Alex bared his teeth.   
“Alright, bitch.” Thomas sneered deeply, hot, breath stroking Alex’s face erotically, “You seem to think that after all this, I’m not going to beat the shit out of you for mouthing off with me.”   
Alex growled aggressively and jerked, Thomas just gripped him tighter. 

“Hey, asshole, you said it yourself, I deserve a reward and you know it.” he snarled, earning himself another hand on his body, slipping around to cup the soft, exposed throat. 

“You really want to test that theory, Alexander?” He laughed darky, “Really? Because please try me. Please do.” his voice dripped with genuine challenge, and he moved even closer to whispered, “There’s nothing I would love more than to teach you some manners.” 

Alex squirmed and his dom got even quieter,   
“You know I have the toys for it.” he breathed into his ear, and Alex could feel him smile against his skin. 

“You’re sick.” Alexander gargled a throaty growl, but before he could say much else, Thomas released him and stood, water streaming off his body and trickling into the tub. He climbed out gracefully and snagged a towel, drying himself. 

“Get up.” he spat over his shoulder as he did so.  
Alexander huffed and pulled himself into a sitting position, feeling heavy from so much relaxation. He glared at Thomas from his place crossing his arms.   
“Give me a towel.” He scoffed, in an “umm, hello” kind of way. Thomas ignored him.   
“Don’t give me that tone. Get you own.” 

Alex stood, grumbling under his breath, “Had no problem chucking one at me earlier.” 

Thomas whirled around lips screwed up in annoyance and pointed at Alexander.   
“One more word, Alexander.” He hissed between gritted, clenching teeth. He shook his head dangerously, “ONE more word, I dare you.” He scowled into Alex’s fiery eyes, the heat between the two of them crackling like electricity. Fucking God, they could not keep their hands off each other. They could not. 

Alexander scowled right back up, meeting the challenge but not saying another word. He simply glared, livid, at Thomas as he stepped out of the bathtub and yanked a towel off the ornate, brass rack. He never broke eye contact as he did so. 

“That’s what I thought.” Thomas sneered in satisfaction, “I’m getting cuffs. Your ass better be on the bed and hard by the time I get back or I’m beating the fuck out of it.”   
“Yeah? Bite me.” Alex snarled, but Thomas was already out of the bathroom. The cocky asshole knew that Alexander would do exactly as he said. He couldn’t resist. Alex knew it too, cheeks burning as he finished drying and padded to the bed on bare feet. 

He flopped himself down, on the clean, soft sheets, not feeling near tired now, however. Alexander glanced around; the hook was still above his head here Thomas could chain him up. Good. Somehow, he both loved and despised the feeling of being locked up and helpless. He quivered with restless excitement.

Thomas came strolling back in within a minute, leather clenched in one hand. Alexander watched him with ferocity, scanning the contents.   
“Where’s the muzzle? Too pussy to muzzle me again?” 

Thomas stepped towards the bed, eyes flashing dangerously. He climbed on, swinging one leg over to that he was pinning down Alexander’s. Thomas sneered slowly lowered to all fours, hovering above Alexander. 

“I’m not muzzling you. I have plans for your mouth.” he spat. Alexander bared his teeth in warning, but Thomas only laughed at him, slowly beginning to crawl his hands forward. The leather touched him and he flinched on instinct, gasping, making Thomas huff in amusement. The more he crawled forward, the more he slowly forced Alexander to lay flat on his back pushing him to the bed by sheer dominant energy. 

The leather was dragging across Alexander’s legs now, making him want to squirm but he wasn’t going to fall apart under Thomas, not yet. The bigger man could still see the struggle.

Once he was flat on his back, he glared up into Thomas’s dark eyes, challenging him. Just to speed Thomas up, he bit his lip in the way he knew his daddy loved it. 

Thomas got visibly harder above him immediately, and Alexander cast a knowing glance to his cock and then back up to Thomas, smiling innocently and mocking him.   
“Sorry.” he spoke in false bashfulness, biting his lip again. 

Thomas looked down on him with no joke in his face. “Think you’re clever, do you?” Thomas’s accent was dripping now, making Alexander harder as well.   
“Fucking wrists, Alexander. I won’t ask twice.” he jingled the chains and found the leather cuffs, twitching his dark eyebrows at Alexander testily. 

Alex seethed and surrendered his wrists, watching as Thomas chained them up and then raise them above his head, hooking them over the metal spoke. When Thomas was finished, Alexander pulled at the chains, squirming to test the waters. The metal rattled beautifully. 

Thomas watched him intently, dark eyes scanning his face and body, racking it. Alexander’s eyes were locked on Thomas’s lips. So full and red. God, he wanted the taste; he hadn’t kissed Thomas in, what, and hour? In this context, it equals an eternity and Alexander was starving. 

“What?” Thomas sneered bringing a hand up to gently brush over Alexander’s face with his nails. He traced his cheekbones. 

“Your tongue. In my mouth. Please.” he asked frustratedly, wiggling closer to his partner who wasn’t making contact with him. Thomas smirked maliciously, trailing his nail to outline Alexander’s bottom lip, tugging at it. Alex tried his best not to get frustrated and needy or bite him. Then he’d get the muzzle for sure. Just stay obedient. 

“You want my tongue?” Thomas repeated, playing nice now that Alexander was.   
“Yes sir.” The little one spoke, voice wavering a bit and he swallowed.  
“Hm.” Thomas hummed, trailing the nail up to the corner of his mouth and drawing his face so close to Alex’s that all he could see were those dark eyes, “Is that manners I hear?” He grumbled brushing his lips over Alexander’s. The little one let out a tiny whimper, so needy that it actually made both their cocks twitch. 

He held himself back from devouring Thomas’s mouth which was drawing ever closer.   
“Yes sir.” Alexander repeated even quieter, letting his breath mix with Thomas’s between their faces. Thomas smirked against his lips. 

“You see what happens when we’re respectful?” he breathed, finally, finally touching his tongue to Alexander’s lips.   
“Stay.” Thomas grumbled, warning Alexander not to move as he trailed his tongue over Alex’s bottom lip, outlining it as he had with his nail. He drew his wet tongue across his lip, flicking over it before working the corners of his mouth. At the same time, he lightly brushed his fingers over the smaller’s chest, finding his nipples and twirling lazy, feather-light circles over them. 

Alexander couldn’t move at all, bound, all he could do was suppress a lustful whine, arching his back for a moment and then letting it fall back down. Thomas just brushed over his sensitive nipples, still licking his lips.   
“Don’t move.” Thomas spoke around his own tongue, “Tongue out. Now.”   
Alexander practically leaped to follow the orders, sticking out his tongue long and pretty for Thomas, whimpering needily.

The larger hummed and licked gently up until he was in Alexander’s mouth; the immigrant had to physically hold himself back; he was going to fucking burst. Thomas watched him carefully for obedience and drew back out again, running his tongue up the underside of Alexander’s this time and then closing his mouth on it, allowing Alex to do so as well. The little one moaned as Thomas rubbed his nipples harder. 

Their mouths converged in on each other’s exchanging a rather obscene amount of saliva. They slid around and over each other, warm and nasty.   
“This…” Alexander panted, pulling on his chains to move closer to Thomas, “Is so filthy…” 

Thomas bit Alex’s tongue to draw out a squeal and kept sucking and licking at his mouth, “Yeah…” he breathed his hot breath into Alex’s mouth, abandoning the little one’s nipples and tangling both hands deep in his hair, tilting his head up to smack his mouth as deeply into Alex’s as possible. The immigrant released a low moan. 

“And you LIKE it, don’t you?” Thomas panted, sliding his tongue over Alex’s, “You love it when daddy lets you do disgusting things. Your daddy’s little French habits. I can see your cock; I know how filthy you like it.” He smirked, pressing deeper. 

“I hate you.” Alexander breathed, tasting all of Thomas, wanting so much more in his mouth. 

And suddenly it was an unbearable need.

“Please. Your cock, can I have your cock? In my mouth.” Alex heaved his breaths. Thomas surged forward, grinding against Alexander’s belly and forcing out a noise from Alexander that was more than a moan. He was so turned on and now it was desperation. Searing desperation. 

“Thomas.” he choked out, trying not to let himself cry yet. Not yet, he could hold out a little longer. The chains rattle above him.   
“Yes?” Thomas purred, cunning and snakelike whilst he pulled away from Alexander’s mouth. 

“May I say something?” Alex whimpered, his lip quivering. 

A pleasantly surprised smile spread across Thomas’s face, making him drag a hand down to paw at Alexander’s cock.   
“Good fucking boy.” He shook his head, relishing this moment, Alex grinded happily up into the hand, whining with pleasure “Speak.” 

Alex had to breathe to be able to. His cock had been so deprived.   
“Please fuck my mouth. Please.” He gasped. His lust was now taking over his whole body in a heat wave. He wasn’t going to be able to handle himself much longer and he started to shake.   
“Please.” he choked out, parting his pretty jaws wide as he could, sticking his tongue out. He laid back submissively. 

Thomas was disgustingly turned on. He gaped exaggeratedly to increase the shame on his slutty partner.  
“Alexander Hamilton you are the filthiest slut in New York.” he breathed and shook his head in disbelief. Alex just spread his legs and whimpered, mouth still open for Thomas.   
“I ought to wash your mouth out. I ought to spank some modesty into you.” Thomas lambasted, making Alex’s cheeks redden in shame. His big, brown, watery eyes still looked up to gaze pleadingly at Thomas. 

“Please…” he begged weakly.   
Thomas slowly shook his head in incredulous lust. He walked forward on his knees until his cock was tantalizingly close to Alex’s mouth.   
“Eyes up.” Thomas barked. Staring down on him. The taller held onto the chain for leverage, making sure he could fulfil Alexander’s needs. And hard. 

Alexander turned those eyes up, knowing what was about to come, and his mouth physically and visibly started to salivate. Thomas watched him in dumbstruck awe. God, he was perfect. 

“Are you… salivating?” Thomas spat quietly, letting his lip curl in enthusiastic disgust. Alexander just squirmed and opened his mouth wider, PLEADING. Thomas clucked his tongue.   
“Aw.” He pouted, cocking his head and running a large hand through Alexander’s hair. He brought it down to cup his cheek and Alexander leaned into the touch like a puppy, nuzzling.  
Shit.  
Thomas knew he was being a filthy little suck-up for his own gain, but he was delicious.

“You’re a pretty boy, Alexander. So pretty for me.”

He whimpered at the compliment, trying to lean forward and pull Thomas’s cock into his mouth, but Thomas pulled away a bit.

“Nuh uh uh.” Thomas placed a gentle hand on his throat and cupped it, just admiring Alex’s face like this. “I am going to fuck your face. Not the other way around.” Thomas grumbled matter-of-factly, “You are going to cough, and I don’t care. Is that clear?” Thomas cocked an eyebrow at him. Alexander’s patience was rapidly draining out.

“Challenge accepted.” Alex whispered flicking his eyebrows dangerously back. Thomas squeezed the subtlest amount, just enough to make Alex’s heart flutter. 

“Be very careful, Alexander. Very careful.” he warned darkly, the threat still menacing on his throat, “As soon as you show me disrespect, I won’t play nice with you anymore.” Thomas let his nails gently prick at his soft skin, “I won’t. Is THAT clear?” 

Alex growled lowly, almost inaudibly. “Yes.”   
Alexander flicked his eyebrows again, enunciating clearly. Thomas kept one hand on his throat, but wrapped the other firmly around the base of his cock, giving it two strokes before positioning it in front of Alexander’s lips. 

“Open up.” Thomas sneered dirtily, and Alex complied, parting his jaws for his dom. His tongue was practically dripping, lubrication was not going to be a problem here. And then Thomas pushed in just an inch, letting Alexander take care of the tip a bit. The immigrant flicked his tongue over the slit, then swirled it around the head in wide, sweeping circles, closing his eyes in relief.  
Thomas held the chains harder, letting himself rely on them, and thrusted into Alexander’s mouth, deep into his throat. 

Alex’s head hit the headboard with a rattling slam, the chains clinked. Alex moaned around his daddy’s cock, letting it fill him up.   
“I said eyes up.” Thomas snarled, reaching down a hand to lace in Alex’s hair, yanking it so that he was looking up at Thomas, hard length still in his mouth. Alexander whimpered helplessly, stroking his tongue along the bottom side of Thomas’s dick.

“Mm. Mhm.” He whimpered pitifully.  
“Mm!” He made another urgent guttural noise as Thomas slammed him again, fucking deeper into Alexander’s throat without pulling out. His skull hit the wood in the most perfect, rough way. God, he would never have it any other way. 

Thomas then pulled out all at once, cock leaving Alex’s mouth with a wet sound. The little one gasped and coughed, trying not to choke. He sputtered and panted, loving every breathless second. 

Thomas just watched him with cold, dark eyes.   
“You… are…” Alexander panted, swallowing “a despicable man...” The little one smiled helplessly, moving his head to brush some hair out of his face using his shoulder. 

Thomas bent down close to him, breath tickling his ear, “And you are in love with one.” he growled, placing his hands on either side of the headboard to hammer back into Alexander’s mouth. The little one got impossibly excited at Thomas’s response and devoured him, pulling him as deep as possible. In that moment, he absolutely and one-hundred-percent believed that Thomas Jefferson could talk him to an orgasm. 

Thomas continued to pump in and out of Alexander, facefucking him ruthlessly until there were tears in his eyes. He could scarcely see as he hollowed his cheeks out with every stroke, opening wide as Thomas reentered over and over again. The sounds of their sex filled the room. 

“I think the occasion calls for some new rules, hm?” Thomas inquired breathlessly, tossing his sweaty hair from his eyes while continuing to fuck Alex. He pulled out for the first time in a few minutes, letting him breathe. The little one gasped and sputtered, heaving for breath. Thomas could tell he relished every fucking second, tears streaming down his face as he sobbed. 

“One.” Thomas grunted, placing a hand on Alex’s throat and pushing back in, the little one whimpering his approval, “You sleep in my bed every night. No fucking excuses.” Thomas growled, biting his own lip and indulging in a few slow thrusts before speeding up again. And before Thomas could reach his own climax, he pulled out. 

Alexander coughed, head flopping exhaustedly to his chest.   
“Haaaahh…” he breathed shakily, sides expanding and deflating rapidly with gasping breaths, ribs showing.   
“Two.” Thomas didn’t relent, grabbing the front of his hair to force his eyes up, force him to stay alert. He panted in sharp gasps, eyes slowly finding Thomas’s that were boring ruthlessly into his own. 

“You belong to ME, Alexander.” he snarled in his face, curling his lip to show canines. He was so fucking primitive when it came to territory, “One HINT of another man and you will feel me for days. Am I fucking clear?” He spat, slamming Alex’s head into the reverberating headboard once again, thrusting five rapidly vicious times before pulling right back out. Alex coughed and sobbed as Thomas’s cock flopped out of his mouth. 

“Y-yes… Yes-s-s.” he stuttered, trying desperately to catch his breath that he was choking on. Thomas nodded curtly, cracking his shoulders and neck back and forth before walking backwards on his knees, distancing himself from Alexander.

The little one was given a few moments to breathe, gasping for air. Thomas watched him, such a sight to behold, drool dripping from his chin, nothing he could do about it. 

The Virginian wasn’t about to let Alex recover for too long, though. He needed to pleasure his little sub just as much, the boy deserved it. While Alex caught his breath, Thomas spread apart Alex’s legs as far as they could go with his own knees. The little one gasped even more as the cold air touched him, making Thomas smile. 

“Mm…” He hummed, gently placing Alex’s warm legs over his strong shoulders one at a time. Alex was flexible enough. To make sure he was stretched and wouldn’t pull anything, Thomas leaned forward, crawling his hands so that he had one on either side of Alex on the mattress, and leaned his head in. 

Alexander gazed up at him with SO much emotion in his leaking eyes. Submission, fire, challenge love, melting lust. It was all there. Thomas smirked and placed his lips on Alexander’s quivering ones, stilling them. He pushed his warm tongue past the barrier, allowing Alexander a low moan of bliss and the privilege of licking at his daddy’s tongue.

After sliding his tongue over his, lapping deep into his mouth, he pulled away less than an inch. Alex searched blindly for his lips but Thomas held back, a filthy smirk on his face. 

“I can taste myself in you…” he breathed erotically, knowing it would get Alexander off. And boy, was her right; Alex positively whined, curling his toes at the words. He tried to grind against Thomas but the man wouldn’t LET him. 

“Three.” Thomas drawled, trailing one hand down Alex’s sensitive belly and down his crack, eyes never leaving his, even as Alexander craned and squirmed, trying to see what he was planning. Thomas paused above his entrance, ghosting over it in feather-light circles. FAR too lightly to not be brutally torturous. Cruel, even. 

Alexander KEENED.  
“I will pleasure you as I see fit. And if that means holding you on the edge for days, keeping you so… SO close to cumming and never letting you have the privilege, you suck it up, understood?” Thomas continued his circling and Alexander positively whined, writhing and sobbing against Thomas’s body. 

“If that means making you ITCH for it until you leak, you suck it up.” Thomas licked his own lips before devouring Alexander’s, plunging three fingers inside of him at the same time. His eyes snapped open, back arched and toes curling as he pulled at the chains, and absolutely screamed into his dom’s mouth. He was so oversensitive, so desperate and needy at this point. Anything could get him off; he was Thomas’s, Thomas’s alone. 

“Please.” Alex sobbed against Thomas’s lips. It was so helpless, so defenseless that Thomas knew he had to do something. Knew he had to do something for him, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t tease it out of him first. 

“Are you sure?” Thomas grinned, breathing in through his nose and pressing his fingers up against Alexander’s prostate. He began to massage and rub roughly, short little fingerings that left him squirming for it.  
“Yes!”   
“I need to open you up, mon jouet. Are you ready so soon?”   
“Yes, yes YES! PLEASE.” he begged, pleading to be fucked. He squeezed his eyes closed and tears leaked out onto his wet face. Thomas gave him another gentle, wet kiss while he positioned his cock, and then in one movement, replaced his fingers with it, plunging inside of Alexander. 

He wailed, back arching as he pulled against his handcuffs, making them clink. Thomas began a rhythm that would make Alexander scream, deep, long and hard thrusts, speeding up as time went on. But there was so much more for him to stimulate. Thomas’s thumbs brushed up to find Alexander’s nipples, gently rubbing over them in tight circles. 

Alexander writhed but there was only so much he could do, legs thrown over Thomas’s shoulders and hands chained above his head. 

“A-A-Ahhh… Daddy PLEASE!” He sobbed, choking on his own short little gasps. Thomas smiled.  
“Shh, baby. Daddy’s gonna make this good for you. Daddy’s gonna make you feel good.” He promised gently, moving a hand from his chest to brush the sweat-slick hair out of Alex’s eyes. The little one just swallowed and nodded with a whimper, lip quivering. He was so perfect. 

Thomas pounded into him, skillful hips working fervently and feverishly, driving Alexander wild for minutes on end. Thomas knew to gradually work Alexander towards his orgasms, that way they were far more powerful for him. Plus seeing Alexander so desperate and ruined made his own orgasm all the better. 

After some time of hammering his sub, he reintroduced him to his dear friend: the hip twist. Hitting his prostate head on now, he was ready to let him cum, he decided curtly. Alexander positively convulsed, involuntarily locking his ankles around Thomas’s neck and pulling, yanking him forward in his pleasure. Thomas almost collapsed on top of him, just barely catching himself. 

“Rrrr!” Alexander screamed a throat-shredder through clenched teeth, he let his head fall back against the headboard and gasped.   
“Thomas PLEASE.”   
“Not yet, mon jouet. Hold it in.” 

Alexander heaved a sob, tears streaming down his face as he used every ounce of self control in his body to listen to Thomas, do as he said. He squeaked and began to cry even harder when Thomas reached down a hand to wrap around Alexander’s pre-cum leaking cock, warm and strong. 

Thomas stroked at a medium pace, long strokes so that Alexander wouldn’t lose control after all his good behavior, and continued to pound deep into him with that fucking hip move, friction at an absolute maximum. Alexander was getting closer and closer, trying so hard to fend it off. He couldn’t feel his own legs anymore, his entire body below his waist was tingling with the threat of an orgasm, just tingling so goddamn close. 

All he could do was grit his teeth and cry.   
Thomas watched him, with utter passion in his eyes, so much it was powerful. The... awe Thomas felt every time he looked at that fucking boy was insurmountable. He was burning to give Alexander release, burning to watch Alexander so blissfully happy. 

He twisted his wrist on his upstrokes, parallelling with his twisting hips and sped up his strokes, edging Alexander closer. He gasped, flailing his legs desperately on top of Thomas’s shoulders, but at this point he was too delirious to speak or even beg for it. Thomas felt him clench up around his cock. He was melting. 

Thomas leaned in close to Alexander, panting now, dripping with sweat. Alex’s head fell back and forth as if he couldn’t hold it up himself; he was absolutely wrecked. Thomas just bit his own lip and groaned, feeling the tingling approach of his own orgasm as he slammed over and over again into Alexander, feeling every inch of him. 

“Fuck.” He spat the dirty word, grinding his teeth. It was coming quicker than he thought and far stronger too. This was it. 

“Cum for me, Alexander... Cum.” the words weren’t even out of his mouth before Alexander clenched ever muscle in his body, CONVULSING with how powerful it was. Thomas silenced Alexander’s voice-shredding scream with an open-mouthed kiss, trapping Alex’s tongue and moaning into his mouth too. 

But it didn’t do much; Alexander was wailing and shrieking and his back arched so hard that it hurt him, his cum squirting out onto Thomas’s belly above him. The little one’s legs clenched up, yanking Thomas even closer into their filthy kiss and holding him there. Meanwhile, Thomas pulled out and cummed all over Alexander, plastering his belly with his release. 

“Ohhh…!” Alexander shuddered once, then twice, then convulsed again, eyes crossing and then squeezing shut as it ripped him apart, tore him in half. His voice was wavering and shuddering with his body. 

Thomas reached above both their heads, using his tallness to unhook the chains and slowly bring Alexander’s arms down, not like the little one noticed in his blinding ecstasy. He shivered and whimpered helplessly, head falling back into the pillows. All he could do was twitch, waves of his orgasm reverberating through him again and again without any stimulation. 

Thomas crawled over him, gently taking his hands and uncuffing them, sure to not pinch him in the buckle. When he was done, he placed a kiss on each palm before laying it beside Alexander in the sheets.

Alexander was blinking cloudily, a stupid smile spread across his face as his eyes tried to focus, head falling back and forth.   
“Deep breaths, love.” Thomas reminded, gazing at him with dark brown eyes and stroking his cheeks with both hands, gently brushing hair out of his face again and wiping off any spit.   
“I got you.” 

Alexander closed his eyes, humming contently as Thomas touched him. It only took a few minutes for him to be able to speak again. He was wrecked.  
The little one sat up stiffly with a huff, sure to breathe. Thomas watched him, watched his eyes fall on Thomas’s cum covered belly. 

He looked back up at Thomas hopefully.   
“Can I…? 

“Mhm.” Thomas permitted matter-of-factly, and Alexander’s face positively lit up, knowing that Thomas was giving him lots of privileges he wouldn’t usually have. Thomas exhaled through his nose and leaned back onto his elbows, shifting around to get comfortable as Alexander nuzzled up between his legs. Thomas settled and sighed, watching Alexander’s dark haired head hover over his belly, breathing hotly down onto it. 

“You can go ahead, honey.” He nodded. Alexander licked his lips and smiled at Thomas.   
“I love it when you call me that.” He breathed. Thomas rolled his eyes.   
“Get along with it, you big sap.” Alexander chuckled and placed his hands on Thomas’s hip bones, pressing his hot tongue to Thomas’s skin. 

“Shit.” Thomas gasped, “The hell are your hands so fucking cold?” He growled as Alexander lapped up his own cum from Thomas’s belly, tracing between his abs to make sure he got all of it. Alex just shrugged as he worked and Thomas rolled his eyes, leaning back into his elbows until Alexander had finished. 

The little one pulled back up and sat on his heels, licking his lips for the dripping remainder, still swallowing.   
“You’re a disgusting disgrace.” Thomas grunted, sitting up as well and towering over Alexander once again. The little one just squinted happily, humming.   
“And you’re in love with one.” He mocked in Thomas’s deep, southern voice, pulling Thomas’s mouth onto his, going in wide open. 

The two licked and lapped deep into each other’s mouths, opening and closing their lips with obscene sounds. Thomas tasted Alexander’s cum in his mouth, even swallowed just a bit. The uptown snob sneered and Alexanders smiled so hard they broke apart. 

“I know you just love that.” Alex laughed at Thomas’s reaction placing another wet kiss on his lips, “Rich boy.”   
Thomas just snaked his arms tightly around Alex’s waist, tugging him towards his own body roughly and holding him there.   
“Despicable.”   
“Snob.” Alex smirked against Thomas’s lips before Thomas pressed back into them again, not caring that he could absolutely taste Alexander. He loved it, but he wouldn’t tell Alex that. Slowly, Thomas pushed the two of them down to the bed, laying on top of Alexander and pressing him gently down. 

Thomas moved the chains aside with his hand so they were safely on the floor. Ten minutes of this, and the two were completely worn out, exhausted to a point where Thomas could fall asleep on top of Alexander and kill him. He noted this as he rolled off, lips still on his as he pulled the blankets over the both of them, conscious to keep Alexander warm. 

Thomas finally broke off reaching sleepily to the alcove shelf for his glass of water and handing it to Alexander who sat up just a bit and sipped. Thomas blew out the candle and took the water glass back, placing it on the shelf carefully. In that small moment, he already felt an ache from not touching Alexander. From not being in full contact with his skin. It was as if the two were tailor made for each other. Just... any lack of contact felt like an entire world between them.

Thomas exhaled exhaustedly out of his nose, gathering up his boyfriend into his arms and pulling him tightly against his body, squeezing him until he heard him squeak.   
“Asshole.” he slurred tiredly, wiggling, but Thomas placed a ticklish kiss behind his ear and another where the neck meets the shoulder, breathing in his scent. Thomas loved spooning him, loved curling protectively around him so not a part of him couldn’t be covered. 

“I love you.” Thomas breathed against Alexander’s skin, pressing another kiss to his collarbone, “You know that right?”   
“I don’t know, man.” Alex shrugged, “You have a weird way of saying it,” he cleared his throat and began in a deep, grumbly voice, “I love you, Alexander. Here, allow me to prevent you from sitting for a week.” 

Thomas laughed and squeezed him too hard once again, biting deeply into his shoulder.   
“Be grateful, you whiny little bitch.”   
“Hmph.” Alexander grunted placing his hands over the ones wrapped around his waist. They were quiet for a few moments. Alexander began to drift off. It was a quiet night. Not so many tickets now that fall was settling in with her crisp, chilly breeze.

“Nine.” Thomas whispered against Alex’s ear. He didn't say anything else.   
It seemed like he was going to leave it at that and head to sleep. For a moment Alexander furrowed his brows, utterly confused. 

“Huh?” he turned to look over his shoulder. Thomas’s eyes were closed, he spoke boredly through his sleep mouth.   
“Nine.” He drawled again, “You were the one who kept pestering me for it. Nine.” He grunted, settling his head into the pillow and beginning to drowse off. For a few long moments, Alexander just laid there, looking at Thomas’s resting face like the man had finally lost his fucking nuts.

And then he understood. 

His face lit up.   
“No WAY!” he exclaimed, turning his whole head around now. Thomas didn’t open his eyes but still managed to scowl in annoyance.   
“Be quiet.”   
“Nine?!” Alexander laughed incredulously flopping back down to the bed exaggeratedly.   
“You’re telling me that when you’re fucking my brains out against the mahogany I’ve got NINE inches down there? I deserve a fucking round of applause, a goddamn medal of honor.” Thomas groaned, pulling Alexander closer so maybe he’d shut the fuck up. 

“Would you can it and let me fucking sleep?” He growled grumpily, “Christ, I wouldn’t’ve told you if I’d known you’d parade it around like a goddamn lion’s head.”   
Alexander shook his head in disbelief, “Nine inches. Shit.” He breathed, chuckling in satisfaction with himself. 

Thomas grunted in irritation.   
“What compelled you to share the news?” Alexander asked curiously, pulling the covers back up and snuggling back against Thomas. 

“I happen to like you some.” Thomas shrugged it off like he’d asked why he’d gotten new curtains.   
“Some? Some?” Alex scoffed in false offence, grinding himself back into Thomas. He bit his lip and began to wiggle his ass in small circles against his bulge. 

“Hmm… Hmm, yep, that doesn’t feel like ‘some’.” Thomas groaned in exasperation, “Feels like NINE inches.”   
“Oh my God.” Thomas could facepalm.   
Alexander just laughed and tucked himself closely against Thomas, wiggling down until he was pressed as close as humanly possible and comfortable. Before he laid his head down on his pillow, he turned his head over his shoulder, craning for a goodnight kiss that was deeply provided. 

Thomas leaned into it, pressing against his lips. Neither one moved for a long time, not even opening and closing, just feeling each other. The night was still, they were still. And it was perfectly fine by them. 

After a while, Alexander lazily opened his eyes, lashes heavy with sleep. Thomas followed too, gazing into Alexander’s in the low light. So warm and beautiful. So… FULL of everything he wanted to see in them every day. The pure contentment that he would move mountains to see for just one moment. 

And then his face grew serious, almost tearful.  
Thomas furrowed his brows, heart dropping. 

“Thomas.” he spoke, no more joking in his tone, it was almost uncharacteristically serious, “I’m in love with you.” he spoke quietly letting the words fill up the whole room, the whole house, the whole world, “And it scares me.” he whispered, looking down and biting his lip as if he was humiliated, as if it was shameful.

Thomas’s heart broke.  
He was not expecting that, not in the least. And his Alexander needed his reassurance. Not a soul that ever lived could stop him. 

He pulled Alex closer, placing a light kiss on his lips to make him look back again.   
“You don’t need to be scared.” he mumbled with that deep voice, chest vibrating against Alexander, “I’m going to take care of you. You understand that, Alexander?” Thomas spoke truly, lacing his fingers with Alexander’s, squeezing his hand softly. Alex looked away again in shame.

“Do you?” Thomas coaxed them back, they were brimming with tears now, “I need you to tell me, Alexander, because if you don’t I will move a mountain for you every day until you do. I won't rest, on fucking God.” he finished with a whisper so pure, Alexander realized he did. He DID understand. Thomas wasn’t going to leave. Wouldn’t leave him like everybody else in his life. His dead mother, his pathetic father, his war friends that were never as lucky as he.  
Thomas... wasn’t leaving. 

And that hit him all at once. 

“I do.” Alexander let a tear slip down his face, lip quivering as he spoke. A light smile broke across his face completely without his command. He nodded, forehead pressed against Thomas’s, their breath intermingling. He closed his eyes.   
“I understand.” 

“I love you, Alexander.” Thomas whispered, leaning in to ever so gently place a kiss on each twitching eyelid, Alexander heaving a happy sob, finally letting it break out of him.

“Oh, honey…” Thomas couldn't bear it; he turned Alexander around in his arms so that he was facing into him. The larger pressed Alexander’s face into his chest, hugging him so tight and squeezing his own eyes shut.

Alexander sniffled messily.   
“Happy. Happy tears, Thomas.” he reassured muffledly from down there. Thomas pet his hair soothingly and slipped a hand under his shirt, stroking up and down his spine. So slow, so soft.   
“I know.” Thomas spoke, not changing anything as he continued his gentle touches. He pulled him tighter, curling around him and burying his face in his hair. 

“I’m not going to leave you…” he whispered so quietly that Alexander scarcely heard him. But he had heard. He had heard. 

And that was what mattered.


	42. Eye of the Hurricane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a beautiful domestic morning (well, that's what these two call it), Thomas receives a letter in the mail from no other than Aaron Burr. And Burr is coming over. Tonight.
> 
> Thomas has no choice but to confess to Alexander. The immigrant's reaction is unforgettable...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go! Read on, lovely readers, next chapter soon! <3

Thomas felt consciousness creep back into his body and he awoke with a deep sigh through his nose rolling back his shoulders. He cracked his eyes open to the golden light in the bedroom, a sunny day was ahead and it was only eight o'clock on a saturday. Thank god. 

He started to shift around in the sheets, going to slip out unnoticed and make breakfast without waking Alexander, but the little one stirred, sighing just a bit too.  
“Mmm…” he hummed groggily, reaching out aimlessly and limply for Thomas, his hand lightly slapping across his face.

Thomas sputtered, grabbing his wrist and laying it back in the bed, shaking his head fondly.  
“Ach! Get your-” He whisper-shouted, pushing Alexander’s legs away from his own,  
“Clammy feet away from me.” 

Alex kept his eyes closed, still half asleep and slurred.  
“Not clammy…”  
Thomas rolled his eyes and crawled carefully over Alexander out of bed, placing his own feet on the finished wood floor. 

“Clammy, freezing ice-feet. Go back to sleep.” Thomas grumbled, placing a quick kiss on Alex’s forehead and strolling to the closet quietly, choosing his clothes and entering the bathroom, sure to close the door softly and cast a glance at Alexander’s gently breathing lump. 

Thomas caught a glance of his leg in the bathroom mirror. The wound was healing so impossibly well. He was young and strong, by the end of the winter it would be nothing more than a long, white scar; he couldn't help but smile.

Alexander slept for another two hours, he was always quite the sleeper whereas Thomas was the early riser. His belly rose and fell as he just dozed in Thomas’s bed. THEIR bed. And he smelled like Thomas, and he probably would continue to. And he loved it. 

Eventually, once his battery was all charged up, Alexander awoke again with a yawn, slowing creeping back to consciousness. He sat up, leaning back against the headboard and noting how nice and loose his shoulders were; Thomas had really done a good job on him. Impressed, he tucked his messy, tangled hair behind his ears and sniffed as he stepped out of bed. 

The immigrant went to Thomas’s dresser and picked out a long shirt that hung to his knees throwing it lazily over his head.  
And Shit.  
Maybe he was loose, but he was also SORE. He grimaced, as he lowered his arms back down. His legs were fucking destroyed and his shoulders and arms were wrecked. Fucking God. Following the scent of bacon, Alexander dragged his feet to the parlor, groaning open-mouthed the entire way. He was still groaning when he pushed open the door, limping through. 

Thomas was sitting at a coffee table with his glasses on, fully dressed and reading the paper. The spread in front of him showed that in two hours he had prepared fruit, eggs, bacon, and croissants. Perfect mix of American and French, just like him. He looked up a bit from his paper to see Alexander. 

“And so he awakens.” Thomas drawled, giving him a look up and down before returning, “And what a sight to behold.” he snorted. Alex just groaned grumpily and limped over to him, dragging and wincing at his shredded muscles. 

He flopped down on the plush couch next to Thomas and released a frustrated sigh, going limp.  
“I can’t feel my anything.” He let his head fall to the side, giving Thomas the puppy eyes, “I’m dying, Thomas. Why don’t you love me?”  
The Virginian rolled his eyes, handing Alexander a mug. 

“Coffee.” Thomas placed a quick kiss on his lips and turned the page, still reading.  
“Oh. Nevermind.” Alexander smiled and began to sip, still pouting a bit at his ruined body.

Alexander reached forward to choose some food, filling up a plate. Every time he reached for something he made sure to make it incredibly obvious how sore he was. After a few minutes of this, Thomas finally released an exasperated sigh. 

“Yes, Alexander?” He drawled, setting his paper down on his lap.  
“Nothing.” Alex shrugged, wincing at that too. Thomas blinked at him, extremely unimpressed. Alexander finally gave up his act. 

“What, you’re NOT fucking sore?” Alexander snorted, cracking his neck back and forth, grimacing, “I feel like you beat me with a sledgehammer repeatedly.”  
Thomas smirked, tilting his chin in the air, “Well, you could say that.” He laughed, “What hurts?” 

“Everything!” Alexander cried dramatically, “And I’m not even mad, so don’t worry.” Alex comforted condescendingly; Thomas snorted. As if he’d ever worry when Alexander was mad instead of fucking it out of him. 

“But the hip twist? Really? Where did you LEARN that.” Alexander spoke around a mouthful of food, wolfing it down. He swallowed and gestured with his fork, “Not only that, what magical, whimsical fuckland did we pull the ‘legs over the shoulders’ out of?” Alexander continued his rant, Thomas hardly even listening as he read. When Alex finished, Thomas didn’t look up from his paper. 

“Well, give me a good review in The Times.” Thomas mumbled boredly, amused.  
“And,” Alex added, setting his empty plate on the coffee table with a clink and turning back to Thomas. He crossed his arms, “You have a spit kink.” he sang knowingly, tilting his chin in the air and smirking. 

Thomas lowered the news and blinked at him.  
“Fuck off.” 

It’s fucking Alexander Hamilton, of course he wasn’t going to.

“You’ve got a power-play kink.” He began to count off on his fingers, “You’ve got an edging kink, no fucking doubt about that one.” He breathed exhaustedly, chuckling to himself, “You like watching, you pervert.” 

Thomas rolled his eyes in exasperation, “Alexander, shut your mouth before I shut it for you.”  
“And you like your boys submissive and little, don’t you?” Alexander smirked, knowing he was getting himself into trouble at only ten in the morning but he was having his fun. Thomas slowly turned his head to Alexander, the beginning of a warning growl rumbling in his throat and a caution in his eyes. 

“Bet in France you only fucked eighteen-year-old virgins, huh? Just to watch em squirm.” 

Thomas rounded on Alexander, noting exactly when he stepped a toe out of line, and pinned him to the couch, abandoning his paper. Anger pumped in his chest, making him growl close to Alexander’s face. And he was in his GLASSES. Thomas Jefferson in those damn glasses.

“You like kink-shaming, huh?” he spat, dark eyes slicing into Alexander. “Then how about some reciprocation.” 

He squeezed Alexander’s wrists where they were sore and bruised from handcuffing, the little one snarled in rage.  
“Fuck off me.” He gritted his teeth trying to wrench away. Thomas held him fast.  
“You like being dominated, being held down and fucked senseless, you submissive little bitch.” He sneered, drawing his face closer and curling his lip to reveal canines. 

“You’re a whore for punishment and you’re a filthy little cumslut too.” He sneered, “And might I mention your humiliation kink, hm?” he mocked laughing disgustedly through his nose, “Spankings, beltings, orgasm denial, over-possession. Remind me where I should stop.” he sneered, laughing at the fact that Alexander had so many, and the little one looked like he was just realizing it. 

He still snarled at his dom nevertheless, masking his realization.  
“You can’t say shit, Thomas. You’re a sexually primitive DOG.” He spat the word as filthy as he meant it. 

It was hardly off his tongue before Thomas slapped him across the mouth. HARD. His head snapped to the couch and he brought it back up, growling through watery eyes. He cracked his jaw back and forth and glared back up at Thomas, still up for the challenge. 

“You astound me, Alexander.” He shook his head slowly in awe, jaw muscles grinding, “This is exactly why you deserve to be punished.” 

“Okay, buddy.” Alexander laughed sarcastically in his face, “Hey, you know what, Thomas, I’ll do you a little favor since you like spit so much.” The little one screwed up his mouth and… spat in Thomas’s face. 

There was a moment of deafening silence.  
“You’re welcome.” Alexander whispered. 

And Thomas was done playing nice. 

The next thing Alex knew, the wind was knocked out of him and he gasped for air. He had REALLY done it now..  
The smaller was bent over Thomas’s knee, the hard muscle and kneecap digging into his belly. Thomas was cursing between clenched teeth, yanking Alexander’s pants viciously down to his thighs.  
“Little… fucking… bastard.” he swore dirtily. He didn’t hesitate a moment for buildup, just raised a large, powerful hand and brought it down on to Alexander’s ass with a smack so loud, it rang. 

Alexander roared, squeezing his eyes shut and clenching his fists. He tried to squirm away but Thomas raised it again, spanking him even harder.  
“FUCKING disgrace.” he roared right back, yanking Alexander’s hair and holding it so that his head was tilted back uncomfortably. The little one snarled and choked, already foaming at the mouth. 

“BITE me, Thomas, you don't have the balls.” He sneered, earning him another three spankings, one right after the other without stopping in between, Thomas never letting go of his hair. He twisted it in his hands. 

“I’m not playing, Alexander. I’m not fucking playing right now.” he spat, watching Alexander tremble and dig his nails into Thomas’s leg, leaving little crescent indents.  
“Ten more. You don’t show me some goddamn respect real soon we’ll be doing this all day.” He seethed, shaking his head, “All day, Alexander.” 

Alexander gasped, shaking, “Yeah? Not sorry.” he sputtered, licking his lips of spit, “Try fifteen, big boy. Try me.”  
“GOD you are asking for it....” Thomas simmered, pulling Alexander’s hips closer and bringing his hand down over and over again, only one break until he had finished. The sharp sound of skin smacking on skin and deep moans filled the house.

Alexander was squealing by the end, shaking uncontrollably with the stinging and tingling on his ass. He was raw now. What a way to start the morning. 

Thomas finally sniffed in satisfaction, nodding curtly. He drew his fingertips over the red, raw skin and laughed when Alexander twitched, gasping. He placed his palms on now, running them up and down, kneading his cheeks. Alexander groaned in pain and lust. 

“Oh my God…”  
“How are you feeling right about now?” Thomas grumbled, sighing through his nose and cocking his head. He twirled a bit of Alexander’s hair in between his fingers, “Hm?” 

Alexander slowly sat up, stiff now, and scooted back onto the couch, grimacing as his ass touched it. He pulled his--well--Thomas’s pants back up slowly, trying to avoid any contact with his red skin but there was hardly any point. Thomas watched him, light smirk playing on his lips as he didn’t help Alexander in the slightest. 

“I don’t like you.” Alex grumbled shifting and wincing in his place. Thomas hummed.  
“The solid erection holding those pants up says otherwise.” He blinked, gesturing down with his head and Alexander pulled the shirt over, sending Thomas a scowl. 

“Shut up, you…” he thought of an insult, “king of awkward boners.” Alex stuck out his tongue childishly, standing stiffly from the couch like an old man and proceeding to limp around the table.  
“King of awkward boners. Really.”  
“Yes, all hail his majesty.”  
Thomas laughed lightly, watching Alexander struggle, little body wrecked by his wrath but he knew Alexander loved it. It was his mark of possession. 

“Alright, Lord unfortunate whale noises.”  
“I do NOT make ‘whale noises’.” Alexander scoffed, turning around to sneer playfully at Thomas, who had a finger to his mouth in consideration.  
“No, you’re right. More like a satanic shrieking.” Thomas cleared his throat and lifted his voice two octaves. 

“Daddy PLEASE.” He whined, trying to hide a dirty grin and fluttered his eyelids as if breathless; he hitched his hips with a gasp, “D-DADDY.” 

Alexander flipped him an aggressive middle finger before limping out of the room, a muffled  
“Fuck you…” following him out.  
“Love you.” Thomas called, chuckling to himself and crossing his legs, returning to the newspaper.  
Nothing but more muffled, disgruntled mumbling could be heard as Alexander made his way to their bedroom. He would love to start every day with a good spanking. 

After finishing his coffee, Thomas licked his lips and stood loftily, strolling to the front door. Intending to check the mail, he pulled the brass knob, the heavy hardwood door swinging open on oiled hinges and surrounding himself with the smell of outdoors. There was still a wet, earthy smell from the rain the previous night, and the air was cool, cool enough to be fall. Soon the trees would start turning, Thomas thought. Which meant closer to Christmas, his favorite time of the year. 

He bent over to pick up the small pile and with a deep breath, strolled back into the house, humming Beethoven’s Second as he sifted through. 

A letter from Madison, not uncommon. One from President Washington, probably on their next Cabinet meeting, good. One with an attachment that he squinted at, strolling slowly and aristocratically to his study through the library. The letter was addressed to Alexander from Washington. But the attachment was from Martha. 

It was a short note explaining how she had taken it upon herself to mail all of Alexander’s letters there and she would continue to do so if that was alright with everyone. Also, for Thomas to mail her the letters sent for her. Seemed agreeable, he frowned in consideration. 

The last letter was not one he recognized. He stopped humming, stopped walking too. The handwriting was sharp as if the person writing pressed too hard onto the parchment. Thomas pushed his glasses further up on his face and brought the letter close, turning it over. The seal was shiny and black. 

Thomas read the sender’s name and as soon as he had, his breath caught in his throat.  
How could he have possibly forgotten in these two hectic days?  
How?

Senator Aaron Burr. 

The Virginian placed one hand on his desk to steady himself and exhaled a shaky breath. Everything came crashing back to him, an icy avalanche of dread making his heart plummet. In the chaos he had forgotten. In the blissful night and domesticity of the day he had forgotten. 

Suddenly needing more support, he rounded his desk at a crawling pace. Slowly, slowly lowering himself to his chair. With hands that he denied were shaking, he peeled open the letter, parchment crinkling. 

He was afraid to read it, and yet he did. It was horrifically short. 

“Secretary Jefferson,

I wish you all the best on your campaign, of which I am sure you are working diligently on. Please write to me if you are in need of assistance concerning my commission.  
In fact, I do expect a discussion about that promptly; I believe our first one was far too informal, as you would agree.” --

“Hey.”  
Thomas’s head snapped up, his hand darting to cover the letter and pull it into his lap immediately. He overshot a bit and almost knocked over his ink bottle, lunging to save it before it rolled off the desk. 

“Woah, didn’t mean to scare you.” Alexander laughed, putting his hands up innocently as he rounded the desk. He was fully dressed now, in his own clothes, with his green coat draped over his forearm. He stopped behind Thomas's desk.

"Whatcha doing?” he asked, looking down to place a kiss on Thomas’s lips. The Virginian sat up straight and tall with that impeccable posture of his.  
“Nothing.” he spoke, “Just going through the mail. Something for you.” he drawled, nodding to the letter pile. His heart was still drumming rapidly in his chest.

Alexander cocked his head, furrowing his brows puzzledly.  
“How’d it get here?”  
“Martha’s sending them over.”  
“Ah.” he nodded in understanding, “Well it’s gonna have to wait for a bit, I’m going out to meet with John, Herc, and Lafs.” 

Despite his current state, Thomas still found a way to scowl and cock an eyebrow at him; he couldn't help it, “I think you mean, ‘can I go out to meet John, Herc, and Lafs?’.” Thomas corrected him. Alexander rolled his eyes but smiled. He was such a sucker for his boyfriend.  
“Of course, babe. May I?” Alexander revised his statement and Thomas didn’t look up at him, just nodded and grunted his approval. 

“Thank you.” Alexander sang, leaning in for another quick kiss, “Be back at, like four. I have a lot of apologizing to do.”  
“What else is new.”  
“Ha. Ha. Hilarious.” 

But Thomas couldn’t wait any longer. He had already started to read the rest of the letter in his lap. He felt his building pressure, building anxiety rising in his chest like a tidal wave. Should he tell Alexander? Should he tell him NOW? Would he run away…? His eyes flew over the page anxiously. Everything was coming down around him at once and he ad no support. 

“... I believe our first one was far too informal, as you would agree. I will be paying you a personal visit this evening at five o’clock sharp, and I do hope you are home. I implore you to remember the arrangement we discussed, as I have remembered it quite clearly if you require further reminding. 

Good day to you,  
Senator Aaron Burr.” 

Thomas wasn’t half done skimming over the sharp signature before he set the letter back in his lap, heart picking up to a painful hammering against his ribs.  
Burr was coming. And Alexander would be there.

He had no choice. 

Alex looked over his shoulder before he left the room, but stopped in his tracks, lurching, hand on the doorframe. He furrowed his brows and turned back around again slowly. Woah. Thomas did NOT look good. 

“Hey, everything alright?” he inquired with concern. He knew when something was amiss with his partner. And something was amiss as Thomas ran a hand through his hair and exhaled shakily. His hand was shaking too when he lowered it back to the desk and placed it there daintily. 

Alexander turned on his heel and reapproached his partner. The little one quietly slid into the seat in front of the desk and sat down, placing his coat gently on the floor. He searched for Thomas’s eyes but the Virginian’s dark irises wouldn’t meet his. 

“Thomas?” Alexander asked, leaning forward to coax them up, “What’s up?”  
For a moment, Thomas hesitated. His lips moved soundlessly in search of something to say. How the hell does one possibly start this conversation? “Hey I know we professed our love and everything, but just by the way I’m conspiring with your political enemy to fire and replace you. Crumpets?” 

Thomas shook his head, knowing he had waited too long, and the concern was growing in Alexander’s light brown eyes. And now it was critical. He had to say something, didn’t even matter what. 

“I…” he sputtered, looking around on the floor for no reason, “There’s something I need to tell you. Alexander.” he breathed, feeling the tension in his own voice and making him cringe. Alexander just looked at him with worry.  
“What is it?” He asked bluntly. He wanted to ease Thomas but his impatient nature was getting the best of him. When Thomas didn’t respond, he grew even more anxious. 

“Thomas what is it?”  
“I’ve made a huge mistake.” He sputtered, hardly letting Alex finish his sentence. Alexander closed his mouth, unsure of what to say. Something was going on and it was getting a little fucking scary if he was being honest. 

Thomas took a deep breath, trying to compose himself and let his words fall out as they usually did. He closed his eyes for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose and then tried again. 

“That night. When Burr came to me with proof of betrayal, of terrible things, he didn’t do it to destroy us, Alexander.” Thomas finally raised his morbid eyes to his love’s, dark truth filling them to the brim.  
“That isn’t how Burr works. That isn’t how Burr plays his game.” Alexander was slowly catching on, dread pooling heavily in his gut, “He… All this was a plan for him. A political strategy, Alexander.” 

Thomas began to speed up, not wanting to lose Alex in this confession; the little one clung onto every word. “He wanted something from this, that was the whole point. He wanted to wield my power against me-”  
“Thomas.” Alexander spoke clearly, interrupting him. The little one looked right at Thomas, staring him dead in the eyes. There was no fucking joke in his face. No fucking joke.  
“What did you do?” He spoke incredibly slowly, trying to hide the choking, suffocating fear wrapping its cold hand around his throat. It felt like time was a train speeding up on icy rails. It was going to crash. 

Thomas looked at the letter in his lap and then back to Alexander.  
“He blackmailed me. Alex. At my only point of weakness, he blackmailed me.” 

The silence was suffocating. The two just stared at each other, waiting for Thomas to go on. 

“He said he’d burn that letter you gave him if I agreed…” Thomas had to physically clench his fists, blinking hard to get the words out, “To replace you if I win the election.” He dropped his eyes to the floor in defeat. It took all of the strength in his being to look back at those eyes.  
“With him.” 

Alexander’s face didn’t move. Neither of them moved. Alexander wasn’t gaping, he wasn’t crying, he wasn’t doing anything at all. His face was as still and emotionless as marble. 

The grandfather clock ticked behind them. Other than that reminder of passing time, there was silence.  
It was unbearable. 

And after who knows how long, Thomas couldn’t fucking take it anymore. He dropped his head. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He sputtered, not sounding like himself at all, “I was going to tell you but with everything… I didn’t want to lose what we had just put back together and now Burr is coming here at five tonight. If I could just-”

“Hey.”

“I can fix this. I swear to God I can fix this, just don’t go anywhere, if I report to Washington on the state of-”  
“Hey. Fuckhead.” Alexander spoke again, interrupting him for the second time. Thomas closed his mouth, not expecting this kind of authority from Alexander. The little one looked at him with those piercing brown eyes. 

“I’m… shocked. But I’m not going anywhere.” he spoke, shaking his head and gesturing flatly at Thomas with a hand. Thomas didn’t understand.  
How could Alexander say that? Burr. He was conspiring with Burr. 

Alexander scooted the chair closer and continued his explanation.  
“You made this decision after I lied to you, scammed you, threw you under the wheel to save myself, and proceeded to tell Burr about our relationship. How the fuck are you even blaming yourself for this, Thomas, are you actually dumb as shit?” 

Alexander scoffed incredulously. Thomas listened in utter disbelief; Alexander was mad, but not at the Virginian. 

“What the hell were you supposed to do? Let Burr take the letter to Washington? Just up and forgive me?” Alexander laughed morbidly, shaking his head and looking out the window. He placed a knuckle to his lip, “Tell you this, if I were you I would have marched the Reynolds letter straight to the Times for publication. I wouldn’t even have thought twice.” 

Thomas just sat there in shock. Alexander looked back at him. 

“Did you hear me last night? I said I was tired of leaving, and I didn’t say that for the hell of it.” He reached across the desk and picked up a spare quill, not even asking permission to do so, but this was Alexander Hamilton. 

“You think after all the shit we’ve been through we can’t fight our way out of this one?” His eyes finally found Thomas’s shocked ones. Thomas was speechless. Alexander had changed. He had changed for the better. And he was proving it.

The little one tore himself a sheet of parchment, ready to write as he always was. 

“I have a plan. I don’t care if it’s crazy.” he began to scribble something down, but looked back up to Thomas one last time. Within those brown eyes, there was absolute FIRE. The same burning flame that Thomas had fallen in love with. 

“We’ve been through the fire before, Thomas. Have we ever burned?” he spoke quietly, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he saw Thomas shaking his head in absolute awe. Awe at his lover.

“We’re the greatest geniuses of the century, you and I. Of all time. Thomas Jefferson and Alexander Hamilton?” 

Alexander grinned maliciously and leaned in, shaking his head.  
Thomas smiled. 

“Burr has… no idea.” Alexander whispered, “Who he’s messing with.”


	43. Wait For It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A plan is put into action, and it can only work if everyone unites. If they succeed, Burr meets his demise. If they fail... Thomas and Alexander have run out of time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Buckle up everyone, here we go! Stay tuned for next chapter!! :D 😄

It was three o’clock when Alexander stepped off the street and pushed open the door to the tavern, little bell ringing pointlessly over the hustle and bustle of the crowd. It was extra crowded, as usual, on a Saturday. But everyone knew where the four friends sat, and Alexander knew where they would be. 

He dodged between waiters and squeezed between tables towards his own by the fireplace. And to his surprise, his heart wasn’t thudding with dread. His hands weren’t clammy, his chest wasn’t tight with fear. These were his friends, he reminded himself. These were his friends.

And he had screwed them over, and he was going to get them back, whatever the cost. 

In all of the chaos he had forgotten what they truly meant to him. How they had gotten him through the war, through the hell, through all the fire. And he had never been there for them. It was time to make things right. It was about time. The passion swelled up in his chest, and he walked faster. 

Alexander caught first sight of them through a group of ladies, sitting at their usual table, no drinks between them yet, and thank goodness. They seemed to be chatting quietly. Hercs was the first one to sight him and elbow John under the table, mumbling something and making him look up, startled. But as soon as he had seen Alexander, John’s face lit up. Alexander was so glad John had convinced them to come. They probably wouldn't have without his persuasion. 

The immigrant slid up to the table, smiling awkwardly and squeezing into his usual wooden seat. 

“Hey.” He breathed. John gave him a smile and a gentle slap on the back for a greeting. The other guys just kind of looked at him and then at the table. Alexander settled in and there was an awkward silence.   
He sighed. This was it.

There was no easy way to do this, but he had to do this. One glance at John and his friend just reassured him. He COULD do this. He licked his lips, sorting out his anxious thoughts and looked in each one of their faces. Hercules and Lafayette glanced up at him expectantly. 

“Guys… I think John told you why I wanted to meet up today.” 

Hercules sniffed, “Well, I mean, we usually would anyway but…” The implied part was “you never come around anymore” Alexander pursed his lips and nodded awkwardly to his lap, picking at a finger for a moment before responding. Someone fell on the piano upstairs with a chorus of off key notes. All of the guys kind of smiled helplessly and Alexander’s heart picked up.  
He took a deep breath. 

“I know. And that’s exactly why I’m here, guys. I haven’t been around this summer. And I know that. I do...” Alexander nodded, and the other two did as well, shrugging.  
“I know what you’re expecting, some ‘this summer’s been super busy’ bullshit, but that would be a lie and that would be pretty damn unfair.” 

Hercules and Lafayette exchanged a glance.   
What?  
This was different. 

“I’ve already lied and been unfair to all of you ten times what you’ve been for me.” he shrugged. Another deep breath kept him plowing onwards. He could feel the three of them in awe, feel them unprepared for wherever this was going. 

“John told you something. And what he told you was the truth. I’m not going to make that part pretty, so if you wanted it to be, tough shit.” Alexander shrugged with an informal sniff. The guys exhaled through their noses in slight morbid laughter. 

“Yeah. We assumed.” Lafayette responded with a wince. And here was the kicker. 

“Well… That’s the whole thing, isn’t it? I made you assume; I made all of you assume for--what--- weeks while I ran around having an affair?” Alexander scoffed at his own words, realizing how ridiculous it was, “That’s bullshit. That’s some bullshit friendship right there, textbook.” Alexander nodded to his lap, “And I’m sorry.” 

There was a moment of silence where the guys nodded.   
“Thanks for telling us, Hams.” This was going to get a lot more difficult before it was half over. 

“Sure, Herc but I, um…” he looked at them awkwardly, “I’m not finished yet. There’s a lot more you guys need to know. That you deserve to know. That I should have told you right from the start because God knows you guys would’ve helped me if I’d gotten my head out of my ass.” 

Their eyes softened at Alexander, guards beginning to lower. 

“If I had just told you instead of worrying about my legacy, shit wouldn’t be half as bad as it is now. That’s the point of friends, that’s the fucking point.” he gestured at them with a hand, and suddenly he really FELT what he was saying. He swallowed a lump in his throat. 

“I love you guys, you know.” he laughed, voice wavering a bit, and he coughed, “And I can’t expect you to love me back if I won’t let you in. If I won’t let you help me.” John was nodding steadily now, urging him onwards. He was saying the right things. 

“A legacy doesn’t… matter,” he paused, swallowing, “If no one wants to tell your story.” He looked in their eyes. His best friends, “If you treat your friends like dirt. And that’s where that ends. Right here, right fucking now.” 

The emotion started to build up in him, strong and surging like an ocean tide. And it finally came out. Inhale. Exhale.   
“I was having an affair with Thomas Jefferson.” 

He felt both of them gasp, tense up. The shock was plain on their faces.   
“Alexander…” Lafayette breathed, wide-eyed. 

“And now it’s something so much more.” he shook his head, “I can’t imagine how this feels to hear. I can’t, guys.” Hercules exhaled and leaned back in his seat, creaking, he placed a hand over his nose and mouth, rubbing a bit in shock.   
“But I do know that I’ve found something I’ve been unwittingly looking for my whole life. I found love where it isn’t supposed to be, and I’m not sorry, I’m not sorry that he and I fell into each other and pretty damn hard.” He laughed, feeling his heart beat for Thomas even though he wasn’t there.

“I… sorry I just don’t know what to say.” Hercules breathed, stuttering in utter shock. They were both obviously trying to get a grasp on this colossal smack in the face, “Why didn’t Jefferson come here too? Come with you?” Hercules maged to form a question.

Everyone’s eyes turned to Alexander and the immigrant heaved a sigh. 

“He’s with our wives right now. They’re together too.”   
“Jefferson and your wives?” Lafayette asked in confusion. Alexander shook his head.   
“Martha Jefferson and Eliza are together in the same way Thomas and I are.” he spoke, watching the shock spread across the faces. 

“And now all of us are in trouble. The four of us.” Alexander spoke, looking deeply into each set of eyes.  
“Burr... figured it out. He figured out Thomas and I, and blackmailed Thomas into making him Treasurer in his presidency.” Alexander was frantic now, and forced himself to slow down, to remember what he was trying to say. 

“I deserve every bit of the shit that’s come to me. But this country does. Not. Deserve. What Burr could do to it.” Alexander poked the table with every word, making each of the patriots around him prick with passion. 

“Burr… he’s coming to our house. Tonight. And if Thomas firmly denies Burr the position, he’s going straight to Washington. He said he would do it.” Alexander tried not to let the fear show through in his voice.

“And he will warp everything he knows in a way that will force Washington to investigate us in the least.” He let that sink in.  
Because they all knew what was implied as the maximum penalty for sodomy. They all knew. 

Alexander’s eyes welled up with passion. For his best friends, for his country, for Thomas. He swallowed.   
“I have… NO right.” He spoke with a wavering voice, “To ask you three to help me. Not after what I’ve put you through.” he raised his chin and shook his head, finding all of their eyes. 

“But I swear to you, from this day forth I will never treat you like that again. Never treat you as anything less than the best friends any man could dream for.” He looked in their eyes, and each of them were smiling. They all looked at each other, and then back to him. Alexander was exposed, he was vulnerable. But he… wasn't afraid. 

“You really love him.” Hercules spoke with warmth in his eyes. It wasn’t even a question.  
Alexander considered how this felt for a moment. This was the first time someone had truly asked about Thomas without malintent. And it felt good. It fortified everything he was feeling for that stupid Virginian. Suddenly he wanted to tell them everything about him. 

“Yes.” Alexander nodded, tears brimming his eyes as he smiled, “I really do.” he laughed, swallowing a knot in his throat. 

Lafayette smiled too.   
“Then there’s no question about it.” He spoke, leaning in. Hercules followed his motion and John did too, placing a hand on his back. It was then that Alexander started to realize what was happening. They were going to help him. They were going to forgive him. 

John looked at him and smirked, “What can we do, Hams?” 

**

Alexander stripped off his coat and hung it at the front door, bending over to work his boots off his feet too, Thomas was picky about that.  
“Thomas, I’m back.” he called loudly through the house, stumbling out of his second boot and padding down the hallway into the dining room. He rounded the corner and stepped in, loosening his cravat.  
Thomas was sitting at the head of the table, knuckles to lips as he held the pen in his other hand, tapping it rhythmically against the desk. His right foot bounced under the table. 

When Alexander entered, he looked up, dark brows flicking at his happy appearance.   
“So. Yes?”  
“Yes.” Alexander nodded, rounding the tabe to Thomas’s side and pulling out a chair for himself. He sat down and looked at the letter Thomas was composing.   
“How’s it coming along?” He asked, jitterish, unable to hold himself back. Thomas exhaled and leaned back in his seat slowly, puffing out his cheeks. He twirled the quill expertly in his fingers and looked at the letter from this new angle as if it would change. 

“Well.” He spoke, twirling the quill in the other direction, “There’s not much to say other than the truth. The composition doesn’t really mean squat now.”   
Alexander frowned in consideration. The man was right. For a few moments the two just sat there. 

Of course, Alexander got distracted pretty quickly.

“How do you twirl the quill like that?” Alexander asked curiously, sensing the hanging, ominous dread in the air. Thomas looked up at him with a light smirk, cocking an arrogant eyebrow.   
“Like this?” he clarified, spinning it between all of his fingers and then back. Alexander just blinked. 

“Uh, yeah.” Showoff.  
“Practice.” Thomas shrugged, smirking. So lofty. Alexander snickered.   
“Learn it in France?” 

“No. Why.” Thomas commanded, sensing one of Alexander’s puns coming on.  
“That’s where you learned how to do everything else with your fingers.” 

He could FEEL Thomas rolling his eyes. “Alright.” Thomas immediately slapped his hands on his knees and leaned forward, standing up and shaking his head. Alexander was still laughing to himself as Thomas carried the letter out of the room back to his study.   
“Worth it!” Alexander called after him, there was no response but a grunt. 

In enough time that Thomas couldn’t turn around and smack him for the joke, Alexander followed him into the study and shuffled around for an envelope, seamlessly handing it to Thomas who took it and placed their letter within. Attached to Burr’s. 

Alexander handed Thomas the seal with a sniff as Thomas dripped the wax over the lip of the envelope and pressed the brass seal to it, stamping it with the Jefferson crest. They both watched together as it cooled.   
It was done. 

Alexander let loose a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. Walking silently into their bedroom, he sat down on the edge of the carefully made bed, tapping a foot subconsciously against the floor. Thomas followed and sat down next to him so that their sides were pressing together just slightly. Even the small touch comforted Alexander. 

“So Martha and Eliza.” Alexander began, turning his face up to Thomas, “They’re in?”   
Thomas smiled lightly and looked down on Alex, “They are.” He placed a large hand on Alexander’s thigh and rubbed the palm slowly up and down. 

“They get the plan? Get the timing?”   
“They’ll be with Tarquin outside Washington’s house like we said. They’ll send to us any sign that it went wrong or if Washington isn’t home.”   
“I hope they don’t have to do shit. For the good of all our necks.”   
“Me too.” 

Thomas gently slid his hand to take Alexander’s, lacing his fingers between his where they fit best. Alexander bit his lip.   
He debated back and forth whether to ask this question... But it kind of just came out. 

“How’s Eliza?” He asked, looking back up at Thomas, “She look… you know… happy?” He asked, scared if maybe Thomas would judge him, but Thomas didn’t, just squeezed his hand. 

“She is thriving, Alexander.” he spoke softly, giving him a light smile, “She was a beautiful woman before all of this but when I saw her she was glowing.” Alex couldn’t help but smile at the thought. For a moment the two were silent. 

“Alexander, you can miss her, you know.” Thomas spoke, turning his face to look right into Alex’s eyes, “You can. There’s nothing wrong with that. There is more than one kind of love.” For some reason, that made sense to Alexander.   
“And when I was with them today, they said that we don’t have to live estranged, they don’t want to. It’s possible that in some crazy, fucked up way this could all bring us closer together.” 

“Geez Thomas. The hopeless romantic.”   
“Just honest.” Thomas shrugged, pulling Alexander’s waist into his arms. 

Alexander grinned stupidly looking into those dark eyes and then down to his lips “Romantic.” he breathed, teasing.   
“Just a little.” Thomas grumbled back pressing his lips to Alexanders and closing against them. The little one opened his again and Thomas followed, slowly pushing Alexander down onto his back on the bed. 

They continued their gradual, deep kissing as Thomas slowly straddled Alexander, laying on top of him and gently pressing him down. The Virginian’s long fingers carefully undid his waistcoat at a crawling, unrushed pace and opened it gently, leaving it under Alexander before doing the same with his shirt. 

Alex concluded a kiss and gazed up at Thomas, smiling softly.   
“Thomas, we don’t have time.” He breathed, but Thomas just silenced him with another kiss, reaching down to unbutton his breeches and pull those down too, just to his knees, gently tugging until they were in place. 

“We’re not doing anything… I just want to feel you…” Thomas whispered into Alexander’s mouth, “In case…” He trailed off, not finishing as his mouth suddenly became very dry.  
Alexander immediately stopped him, pulling his mouth away from his own and holding him away with his hands. 

“In case what?” He asked, searching Thomas’s dark eyes. They didn’t meet his own.   
“It’s nothing…” 

“In case… What. Thomas.” Alexander asked so firmly that it was COLD. The question sliced into Thomas with a chilliness he didn’t know Alexander was capable of. Thomas licked his lips, trying to find the words to tell him. 

“In case they search and find the inevitable.” He spoke, reaching gentle fingers up to brush a thumb across Alexander’s cheek, soft and rhythmic.   
“Alexander if we fail I’m not letting you die for something I created.” Alex looked up at him with the most anguished, disgusted expression Thomas had ever witnessed. 

“Don’t even… SAY that.” he positively SPAT, “Why the fuck do you keep SAYING that, Thomas?”   
“Because it’s true.”   
“Because it's bullshit.” He cut him off, “Everything you say is bullshit. So shut the fuck up.” Alexander was responding with absolute fire. Thomas could see he wasn’t going to relent.   
“If you dare throw yourself on the sword and get yourself hanged for this one, I’m coming the hell with you.”   
“Alexander…” 

Alex reached behind Thomas’s head and laced his fingers in his hair, forcing him to look him dead in the eyes. He wasn’t joking.   
“We both live. We both die. Whatever it is, it’s going to be both of us so you might as well accept that right goddamn now.” Those eyes crackled with flames and Thomas’s heart broke.   
“I. Choose. You.” Alexander spoke slowly, “Thomas.”

Slowly so that he understood every word to its fullest. 

Thomas swallowed a lump in his throat that shouldn’t have been there and squeezed his eyes shut, surging forward to press his lips to Alexander’s again. The little one kept his hand in his hair holding him close. Their bodies pressed together and Thomas knew there was only one option tonight. Only one outcome. They had to succeed. They must.  
Because Alexander had just said that… he could not live without Thomas. He WOULDN’T. And he had said enough. 

He had said enough.

**

At four thirty, John Laurens, Lafayette, and Hercules were at Lafayette’s house, the closest to the Jefferson Manor. They all sat around a small table with a map splayed across it, a map of New York City. 

“Isn’t this a little unnecessary?” John asked, rubbing his eyes, sore from looking at the tiny details for so long. Street names swum behind his eyelids, lanes and parkways and branching roads. Lafayette only waved him off irritably.   
“No. This is all about timing. Punctuality.” He poked the map with every word, “continuer, oui?” he broke into French as usual, “One more time, boys. One more time.” 

Hercules scooted his chair even closer, a serious look coming over his face. He knew the weight of what they were doing. They all did. He rubbed his hands together slowly under the table, masking his nerves. 

“Four fifty five. We’re all in our places. John,” he nodded to him, “behind the window of the parlor so he can see inside. Clearly for Alexander’s signal.” Lafayette nodded, licking his lips. 

John sniffed and picked up, “Burr comes in at five; I look for the signal and when he gives it, I signal Herc by the stables, who-”  
“Signals me.” Lafayette continued seamlessly, looking John in the eye and then flicking them back to the map, drifting their way to the letter he had just received from Jefferson. The object of the mission.   
“I have the letter and I ride…” he traces the route they mapped out to Washington’s house with one finger. Ten minutes if nothing goes wrong. The other two just watched him slowly follow the line on the crinkling parchment, hearts thudding as if he were actually riding as they spoke. 

“Five ten, eleven possibly, I arrive. I knock and-”  
“Leave the letter on the doorstep.” John reminded, mumbling.   
“And leave it.” Lafayette repeated, nodding to him in acknowledgement, “And signal to Elizabeth and Martha Jefferson that all has gone well up to this point. They make sure Washington takes it.” 

Hercules sniffed, “Jefferson and Hamilton hold up Burr for five minutes after Lafs leaves. Enough time for Washington to read the letter once Burr arrives. Just before Burr arrives.” 

“Just before Burr arrives…” Laurens echoes almost absentmindedly. He’s looking at some random point on the map, staring off in contemplation. And they all suddenly fell to a hushed silence, nodding to themselves slowly, feeling the weight of this on their shoulders.

This plan was madness. It sounded like something out of a novel one reads for the thrill of living someone else’s exciting yet unrealistic adventure. But this was real, and it was happening to them. It was crazy, but there was a method to the madness.

Washington reads the letter just before Burr arrives. The emotion is fresh, the emotion will take the lead more so than reason. And if all goes well… 

The three just sat around that little table on spindly stools, everyone’s eyes eventually finding their way to that letter. The scarlet seal glinting in the light of the single candle they had between them. Their horses stood outside, calmly chewing on their bits.

The clock in the room ticked, counting down the seconds, getting closer and closer to five o’clock like a lion creeping in on its prey… 

**

Thomas sat on the floor behind Alexander, pulling the brush repeatedly through his hair. It had long since been rid of knots, but Thomas kept brushing, long soft strokes of the brush, grooming him. Alexander sat cross-legged, Gulliver’s Travels propped up in his lap as he read aloud to the two of them. Thomas started at the top of Alexander’s head and began to braid his hair, weaving the dark strands into a smooth French braid. 

It was peaceful like this, both pretending things were normal as the sun set. Pretending that they could spend a nice evening together, a nice Sunday, and then go to work as usual on Monday. Preparing side-by-side for the Cabinet debate on Tuesday. But underlying beneath this scene was the element of darkness. Both trembling to their bones but both hiding it for the sake of the partner. 

Neither could stop their eyes from darting to the clock over and over again.  
“I likewise delivered up my watch, which the emperor was very curious to see-”   
Alexander’s breath caught in his throat and he stopped reading. A crisp knock had rung out through the house. A deathly silence followed. 

Alexander’s eyes met Thomas’s dark gaze in the mirror, somehow the man remained calm. This was what they had been waiting for. And now it was happening.   
“Go wait in the parlor, Alexander.” he spoke quietly, setting the brush on the floor.   
“I’ll get the door.” 

**

Burr sniffed and checked his pocket watch for the time. Five on the dot, punctual as always. He placed it daintily back within his coat and straightened his cuffs before folding his hands in front of him. He took in the house in front of him. Quite the marvel, he had to say. 

He hardly finished his thoughts before he was no longer alone, the tall, ornate door swinging open with a breath of warm air from inside. It ruffled the dark hair of the man standing tall in the frame.

His powerful dark brows shaded his even darker eyes that glinted a bit in the rapidly setting sun. Jefferson towered over Burr, standing regally with his chin in the air. 

“Senator Burr.” he spoke flatly, not letting anything in his tone stray from professional. 

“Secretary Jefferson.” Burr spoke in response, bowing his greasy head low in greeting. Thomas just watched him coldly for a beat, expressionless. For a few moments, nobody moved.   
“Do come in.” Thomas finally spoke, nothing moving but his lips. Deep inside he wanted to crack the man in the jaw, but he was far too composed to do something so rash.

Burr gave him a tight, slimy smile and followed him into the house, their boots clunking on the polished wooden floors.   
Burr looked around. 

“I am quite fond of the French influence you’ve incorporated into the architecture.”   
Thomas did not look over his shoulder, “As am I.” he responded dryly and rhetorically. The senator smiled tightly. The man was difficult, far too proud for any leisurely conversation. But as he was led into the well-decorated, round parlor, he may have thought otherwise. 

At the coffee table, there was a bucket for ice and three glasses. Two tall bottles of alcohol. Thomas rounded the table, chin still in the air and lowered himself down onto the couch.   
“Whiskey or rum?” he inquired crossing his legs aristocratically. Burr stood for a moment, unsure of what to do, and then skeptically followed his lead, hesitantly sitting across from him in a chair. 

“Whiskey, if you please.” he responded, watching Thomas uncap the crystal whiskey decanter and pour the two of them a glass, never breaking eye contact. He had a dark way about him, somehow making Burr himself feel uncomfortable and wary. As Thomas slowly handed him the glass and held his own, Burr had an unexplained, fleeting feeling that Jefferson was going to poison him. 

“Now. You had questions about your commission, if I understood your letter correctly, Mr. Senator.” Thomas began flatly, taking a delicate sip of his golden whiskey and licking his lips. He leaned back into the couch, eyes training on Burr’s. 

Burr coughed slightly adjusting his cravat.   
“Details, Mr. Jefferson. Details.” he spoke charismatically as a snake, taking a sip of the whiskey just to prove he wasn’t wary. He twirled the glass in his hand.  
“I should like to know how much you’ll be paying me.” he sniffed, finally feeling his power slip back in. He was in charge, he reminded himself. 

Thomas didn’t say anything, just lightly tapped a fingernail against his glass. Burr shuffled and raised his chin, trying to remain in control even though Thomas wasn’t even speaking.   
“In addition, in your presidency I expect defamation published in the press on Hamilton.” He spoke matter-of-factly. Thomas just stared at him with those dark, expressionless eyes, nothing changing. 

“Promptly. In order that he never finds another federal position.” Burr further explained. But Thomas still did not move. 

He just… stared at him. Was that a slight smirk pulling at his face? Burr couldn’t concentrate with the gentle tapping of his nail on the glass. This seemed to go on forever as Burr squirmed in his seat, trying not to break the eye contact. 

Finally, Thomas hummed. Leaning forward slowly and placing his glass on the table with a clink. The senator could only watch. Why was his heart pumping?  
Thomas slowly retracted, leaning back against the couch once more. 

“Pity, Burr.” he spoke shrugging his shoulders. Yes. there was a smirk playing on his face.  
“Because I shall not be doing any of that.” 

Burr was struck speechless for a few moments. He felt as if someone had slapped him.   
His face screwed up one he had recovered.   
“What?” He spat incredulously. Thomas just nodded once, terribly slowly, and bore into him with that stare. 

“I said I shall not be doing. Any. Of. That.” Thomas spoke lightly, more clearly as if Burr had just not heard him correctly. He twitched his brows and took the bottle in his hand once more, beginning to daintily fill the third glass.

The third glass... Why…? 

“In fact.” Thomas spoke once more, taking both glasses in hand and leaning into the couch again, “I don’t intend on commissioning you Burr. I don’t intend to at all.”   
Burr’s heart rate was beginning to pick up. Something was wrong here. 

Thomas turned his head to the side but kept his eyes on Burr, locking them. What is this?  
“Alexander.... Why don’t you come and join us?” Thomas spoke light heartedly, unable to hold down a malicious grin. 

Burr’s heart lurched icily into his stomach. No.   
It wasn’t possible. 

And then a voice came from the darker side of the room, an armchair that was turned towards the fireplace.   
“I thought you’d never ask.”

There was movement as a figure rose, and stepped into the light of the center of the room. Alexander Hamilton in the flesh, standing arrogantly, head tossed up and the crackling fire burning in his gaze. He smirked too, casting Burr a grin and then moving slowly towards Jefferson on the couch. Both of the lover’s eyes were trained on Burr, whose face had gone white. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. 

“I was beginning to feel… Left out.” Alexander laughed through his nose, tapping his watch three times behind his back before lowering himself daintily right next to Thomas so that he was pressing right against his side. The taller towered over him protectively and Alex crossed his legs in the same direction as Thomas. 

“Whiskey?” Thomas spoke, handing him the glass.   
“As always.” Alexander responded, taking it while still grinning at Burr. 

The man was absolutely paralysed in his place. He shook his head.   
“It isn’t possible.” He breathed. 

“Oh but it is.” Alexander cut in, swirling the glass to take a sip. “You really thought you had the upper hand?” Alexander laughed lightly and so did Thomas. As if this was one big joke, a cruel trick on Burr. Thomas was now gently snaking one arm around Alexander’s waist, settling it there and gently stroking up and down his side in long sweeps. 

Burr watched in horror at the contact, mind running a million miles an hour.   
The man stood from his chair and dropped the glass on the floor, hearing it shatter into a thousand tiny shards, the golden liquid splashing out and spreading across the hardwood. 

He backed up, stumbling against the edge of a rug a bit but caught his balance, pointing at the two on the couch. 

“Then you have made your decision.” he spat dangerously, “And you will hang for it.”   
He placed his hat back on his head.   
“Washington will do it himself.” 

“And what makes you think Washington will believe you?” Alexander asked lightly. Burr snarled back at him.   
“The man has been putting me in Cabinet meetings for the past month. He trusts my word.” he gestured to himself and backed up into the hall. The two just stared at him from the parlor, light smirks playing on both faces that looked eerily similar in the low light. 

“Run along then, Mr. Senator.” Thomas spoke, dark eyes flashing, “I fear you are running out of daylight.” But Burr had already had enough, turning crisply and striding as quickly as he could out the door trying not to break into a run but failing as he seized the handle, jerking it open and slamming it shut behind him. 

The two lovers just sat on the couch next to each other, speechless in what they had just done. Speechless in how they had succeeded. In this moment, Lafayette was five minutes ahead of Burr, carrying their letter to Washington through the night. Several beats of silence passed.

Alexander breathed, exhaling and running a hand through his hair.   
“Thomas Thomas Thomas....” he spoke in a “tut tut”-ing sort of way, shaking his head fondly and looking at him, “You are devilishly sexy when you’re being edgy.” there was a happy shine to his eye, feeling some relief now that their part of the plan was over. 

Thomas snorted lightly, looking down on him with those dark, sharp eyebrows.   
“Naughty, naughty, Alexander.” He warned, leaning in to bite Alexander’s bottom lip sharply with a deep growl. Alexander snickered, biting back. 

“‘Alexander, why don’t you come join us?’” Alex quoted his line playfully, “Almost got a boner, Jefferson.” he joked.

Thomas just rolled his eyes and kept nipping at him.   
“You’re despicable.”   
“Mm.” 

Eventually the two broke apart, breathing just a bit heavily and sipping at their whiskey. They’d need it tonight. 

“You think we thoroughly scared the bastard off?” Alexander asked conversationally, pushing closer to Thomas and pulling his legs up onto the couch. Thomas hugged him close and rubbed him comfortingly.   
“We succeeded at what we were trying to do. Make him piss his pants and run to Washington.”   
“True.”   
“So yes. We did.” 

Alexander nodded quietly. The two just sat there, watching the time drag on.   
“And you signaled to Laurens.”   
“Three taps to the watch when I was in front of the window. Yep.”   
“Good.” 

And the two fell hushed again, nursing their glasses. Alexander quietly placed his down on the table when he had finished, leaning back into Thomas.   
“And now we wait.” he spoke, a hint of anxiety wavering in his voice. Thomas drained the rest of his and exhaled, shuffling deeper into the cushions. 

“And now we wait.” he concurred. 

**

George held James’s elbow and carefully guided him into the bed. They had just finished a quiet dinner together on the patio for some fresh air, and James was ready to get some rest and reading in for the evening. George had helped him pull on his night robe and he had done the same himself. 

James let go once he was in the bed, covers pulled up over his legs.   
“Thank you.” he whispered slightly, coughing just a bit. But it ended there with no coughing fit, making George smile. He hadn't had a fit all day.  
“What would you like to read tonight?” George inquired, hand on the doorframe as he was about to head downstairs. James considered for a moment. 

“Expedition of Humphry Clinker.” He spoke with a weak smile. George returned it.   
“Ah, something humorous?”   
“I happen to be feeling a sort of liveliness this evening.” 

George sighed deeply in satisfaction, heading down the hallway, “As do I.” he whispered to himself, catching a glimpse of the new silver band on his left ring finger in the candlelight. Knowing that a matching one was placed on the small ring finger of the resting man down the hall. 

Looking forward to a quiet evening, George padded softly down the stairs, but was hardly around the corner when he heard a sharp knock from his door. He hadn’t even made it to the study yet, and he stopped in his tracks. Ears perking up, his brows furrowed in a slightly inconvenienced scowl. Who could be knocking at this hour on a Saturday? 

Tying his fur robe tighter around his waist he exhaled deeply to keep his resolute composure and glided gracefully towards the door. 

The President pulled it open and the cool air brushed his face. Autumn was coming on quickly, he thought, but the thing that puzzled him was that... nobody was there at all.  
He stuck his head out, looking left and right on the porch but there was still nobody there. A dark horse with two ladies on its back ambled down the lane, an evening stroll. But nobody who had knocked. Curious. 

Washington was about to turn around when the slight breeze blew a fluttering bit of parchment onto his foot. Head darting down, a bit startled, he noticed what was there.   
A letter?  
Curious. Very curious.

Brows furrowed, he picked it up and slowly retracted back into the house, closing the door absentmindedly behind him.  
The dark horse walked leisurely past the house and around the bend…

The President stepped regally up the stairs, not focused on anything around him but this strange letter. He flipped it over to view the seal, a deep, rich scarlet.   
“Jefferson?” He whispered to himself, turning slowly into their bedroom. 

“Something about Jefferson?” James piped up raspingly, bringing George back around to reality. He looked up from the letter that he was peeling open to James. The man looked so small in their bed and his eyes softened. He remembered that he had completely forgotten his book, but James didn’t mention it. 

“Ah, yes.” George scowled throughtfully, climbing into bed beside James and sitting up against the pillows.   
“I just received a letter with the Jefferson crest. But there was a knock and no sender. Curious…”   
“Very.” James noted weakly, looking over and blinking with tired eyes, “Do read it out loud.” he asked. George was already on it. When he opened the envelope, however, TWO letters fell out into the covers in his lap. 

“What in the…” he trailed off, picking up the longer one with Jefferson’s careful, smooth handwriting; this was getting stranger and stranger. He cast a glance at James and then skeptically back to the letter, beginning at the very top. He cleared his throat grandiloquently. 

“Mr. President,

Do allow me to apologize on sending you this letter on a Saturday in which you surely would be liking some peace and quiet. But I am afraid this message is of great urgency, and this letter may have to be read with an element of haste.” He looked at James again and continued, the question growing in his chest with every passing second. 

“You may have noticed a different dynamic taking place in the Cabinet room between myself and Secretary…” He paused, breath seeming to leave him. 

“What is it?” James inquired shifting a bit, but George didn’t want him to have to move too much.   
“Secretary Hamilton… And if you have, you have noticed correctly, Mr. President. There is a different dynamic taking place to say the very least between him and I. Knowing the time sensitivity of this message, it pains me to have to rush through the dire message I am trying to dearly to convey.”

“George… what is this?” James asked in utter bewilderment. This writing seemed far more urgent than Thomas. There was almost a hint of the writing of another man underlying beneath the ink… George kept reading, shaking his head in cluelessness.

“Mr. President... Aaron Burr will be arriving on your doorstep in not three minutes time as you read this. And he brings news of an affair between myself and our country’s Treasurer.” 

George’s voice dwindled off to nothing.   
James’s heart lurched in his chest. Don’t say anything. Don’t say anything, there’s no proof yet. He thought desperately to himself.

“And when he does, he is doing this with the intention of the hanging of both myself and Alexander. And I say Secretary Hamilton’s name with this familiarity because…” 

George swallowed adjusting the paper in his hands, “Because the affair is the truth, your excellency. But the light in which Burr will show it is a twisted version designed to seize power from the both of us and overthrow what our great nation holds dearest.” Washington began to speed up, unable to wait much longer, unable to pause at each reaction. There was too much going on in this letter. 

“Burr spent weeks deciphering our secret, and once he did, he forced this out of Alexander after our Cabinet’s latest meeting. He did this by means of force and proceeded to lock Alexander in a broom closet until help unwittingly arrived. I do have a witness to this event, the boy who is the janitor during that time. Burr seized a letter that was from myself to Hamilton by force from the man, and took it straight to I, who had fled the scene previously to protect Alexander, burning the lot of our letters.” 

The story was coming alive vibrantly in front of their faces, quick and unbelievable. His mouth was numb with shocking words; he fumbled at the paper. 

“When Burr found me, the man proceeded to blackmail me on account of the letter he now possessed. And he did this by forcing me to place him in the position of Treasurer, publish a defamation on Hamilton, or if I refused as a rightful candidate should, I should be hanged until dead, and this information brought to yourself, your excellency. The letter attached is one from Burr to myself, proof of his blackmail.” 

The writing began to turn from a rushed listing of events to an explanation. 

“I cannot expect you to do anything but what our written law says. This means prosecuting myself and Burr. But I must beg you to understand, for myself and for Alexander’s sake, for everything we have worked for in the name of this country we have created around ourselves.

I must beg you to understand. 

You know Alexander Hamilton perhaps better than any other on the face of this world. He was your aide during the war. He confided in you, and from what I heard, you in him. In this past month, I have discovered in Alexander the same fire, the same passion, the same love of his country and his men that you have grown to know. Alexander is… everything to more than just this ourselves. 

And Aaron Burr is threatening to take away everything Alexander and I have created. Everything we have done and COULD do for this nation, and he is doing it in self interest for his own gain. But he is not only doing that, your excellency.   
If you choose to side with Burr, love has lost. Not only has our country lost, but love itself has.

I love Alexander Hamilton. And I would throw myself on the noose for him over and over again without ever thinking twice. Without ever thinking twice. 

Your grace, I implore you to consider my words, as we are running out of time as you read. When Burr knocks on your door, I implore you to think of what matters more.

When he comes with news of a ‘filthy affair’, I implore you to question if love can only take one form in this bitter world, if love harms another by taking on another shape. When Burr censors the blackmail, the anguish, the atrocities he has done to us, I implore you to think of what is right. 

I implore you, Mr. President. For Alexander’s sake far more than my own. Think of what is... right...” 

George’s voice had finished as little more than a whisper. The two of them had… no words. The shock between them was deafeningly silent.  
The story had flooded out of his mouth in a flurry of stormy winds and now the dust had settled. Now everything was still. Quiet. 

George breathed in slowly, mouth open. He closed his eyes.  
“Did you know?” he whispered. James did not look at him, just at his folded hands in his lap. And nodded solemnly. He didn’t speak, neither did. George quietly folded up the letter in his hands. 

James sighed deeply.   
“I’m sorry…” His voice was weak. George shook his head.   
“You have nothing to be sorry about. Nothing.” he responded. And they were quiet again. 

The president looked down at the letter.   
“I… don’t…” he tried to begin. The mess in his lap was far too much, far too much at once. He couldn’t believe it, “I don't know what to do…” he finished, exhaling. He always knew what to do. He always knew what to do...

James turned his head to the President, suddenly feeling something weakly spark and rekindle within him.   
“Yes. You do.” 

His voice was crisp and clearer than it had been in a long time. 

George’s head immediately turned to face him too, something stirring in his chest at the sound of him.   
“...What?”   
“Yes, George you do know what to do. And you know that you NEED to do it.”  
the President tried not to gape. James had… fire in his eyes. Absolute fire. And it was growing.

“If anything in that letter is true, then Burr is walking on our doorstep at this moment.” James continued, growing tired but not relenting, “THIS moment.” he repeated with emphasis, “That snake that is threatening OUR best friends’ lives is walking up to OUR home and expecting YOU to make a decision.” 

James was tired. He was weak. He was leaning back into the pillows but nothing in his eyes was giving up; he was NOT giving up. George’s eyes welled up with passion.   
James shook his head slowly. “How… dare… he.” he spat.

The flames were smoldering in his irises. The anger was so pure, so passionate, George couldn’t help but catch the flame too, feel it ignite within himself. James had put it there.

And at that moment, there was a knock from the door downstairs.  
The flame only roared stronger in the President's chest. He did know what to do. 

“How dare he.” George repeated, stepping onto the floor. 

**

Burr was still in a state of disbelief as he stood on the President’s doorstep. He shook his head, taking a deep breath and trying to compose himself; this was the head executive he was about to talk to, he couldn't appear as shaken as he truly was. 

How in God’s name had Jefferson taken back Hamilton? How had the two reunited despite everything he had done? There was no time to ponder answers as he felt the footsteps approaching him. He straightened up, tilting his chin in the air and folding his hands behind his back.

The door opened slowly and the towering, blonde president stood resolutely before him in the threshold, somehow looking regal and patriotic in a night robe. The man looked down on Burr, with those piercing, blue, intelligent eyes, smiling tightly. 

“Senator Aaron Burr.” He spoke lowly, as if not surprised at all. Burr nodded deeply, “Now what brings you to my doorstep on a Saturday evening?” 

Burr shifted, now a bit uncomfortable. He coughed slightly. 

“I… Yes, my apologies for bothering your excellency. But this matter is rather pressing, I assure you.” 

Washington looked down on him condescendingly, and waited a moment just staring at him.  
“Then, surely, you must tell.” He prompted. Burr shifted to the other foot, realizing that Washington was not inviting him inside, he was supposed to say it right there on the porch, out in the open. He coughed again. 

“Of course, your excellency.” he sputtered slightly, bowing his head again and then searching for where to begin. He raised his eyes back to those of his President.   
“I have just ridden here from the residency of Secretary Thomas Jefferson. We were meeting for the evening but when I arrived I witnessed him committing an…” he curled his lip in feigned suppressed disgust, “illegal act.” 

Washington remained eerily calm, blinking at him, “Dear me.” he spoke with nearly no true concern, “And what might that be?” 

Burr took a deep breath, swallowing his revulsion, “Sodomy, Mr. President.” he whispered the lie as if the word would bring a curse upon the both of them. Burr at least expected him to blink or flinch. But there was nothing. The two stood in complete silence, not even crickets chirped in the night. 

“I would bring it to police authorities if he weren’t engaging with… Secretary Hamilton.” he breathed, looking around as if others were on the porch, perhaps begging to be let inside, but Washington did not falter, did not waver in the slightest. Another period of silence followed. 

Burr licked his lips, about to speak again but Washington interjected, “How very lucky that you entered the home at exactly that time.” Washington spoke quietly.   
“I must say, I never noticed any particular friendship between yourself and Secretary Jefferson. Was this a political meeting you were having?” 

Burr was struck speechless by the question, frozen in place.   
“Surely, this is of little importance compared to-” 

“Compared to illegal blackmail?” Washington asked cooly, neither temper nor voice raising, but something flickered in those icy eyes. 

Burr’s heart stopped.   
“I don’t know what you-”   
“Ah, yes, I understand your confusion, Mr. Senator. I do.” Washington nodded, kindly, reaching inside a deep pocket. He pulled out a piece of parchment. “Allow me to clarify.” 

Burr’s vision filled with spots as he saw his own hard pressed handwriting into the paper.   
“How… How did you?” He sputtered, all formality lost. He couldn’t breathe. 

“I received this from Mr. Jefferson, and I must say, Burr, I was quite disturbed by the contents.” He looked at him with concern. 

Burr was shaking his head slowly, heart thudding against his ribcage. It wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be.  
Washington just cleared his throat formally and unfolded the crinkling letter, reading the words,  
“Please write to me if you are in need of assistance concerning my commission. In fact, I do expect a discussion about that promptly; I believe our first one was far too informal, as you would agree…” 

Burr took one step back, not even knowing that he was doing so. The whites of his eyes showed, growing wider with every word, the words that he had written. 

Washington persisted, “I implore you to remember the arrangement we discussed, as I have remembered it quite clearly if you require further reminding.” he folded the letter up and placed it daintily back in his pocket, looking up to Burr with those same calm eyes once more. 

“Now, Mr. Senator, do correct me if I am wrong, but in the context in which Secretary Jefferson has informed me this was given… this is a threat, is it not.”

Burr shook his head, swallowing. His vision clouded.  
“It isn’t true-” 

“Not that you locked Secretary Hamilton in a broom closet? Or forced Jefferson into firing and replacing Hamilton with yourself in exchange for his life?” 

Washington took a step forward and Burr took a large one back, adrenaline shooting through him as his foot touched nothing but air and he stumbled down onto the step of the porch, Washington now looming above him. From this angle, he could now see that his eyes were positively raging. Burr’s heart thudded with fear. 

“Now, Mr. Senator, if we are debating the illegality of these things, I am sure you do not have the advantage.” 

Washington could feel the passion building up inside him. All he could see is this happening to himself and James. He would never let it happen to James… 

Washington raised his chin and took another step forward, forcing Burr down another stair, his face white with fear.   
“If you want your JOB, Mr. Burr, you will never say anything of this matter ever again.” He spoke quietly, seething, “I assure you, this letter of yours will be kept very close to me if you decide otherwise.” The President gently patted his proud chest where the letter resided. 

For a few beats, there was an electrically charged silence. The tension was tangile, vibrating in the air. 

Washington slowly shook his head.

“Get off my porch, Mr. Senator.” Washington whispered cooly, flames flickering in his icy eyes. Burr backed up slowly. Everything was surreal. Everything had slowed down. He… couldn’t believe it. 

“Get out of my sight.”


	44. Wait For It Pt II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the two wait in grave anticipation of what will happen next, Thomas meets Alexander's friends, and Alex reconciles with Eliza. The next day, there is a knock on their door... and despite that Thomas promised they would go into things together, whether it be Washington or the hangman, Thomas goes against his promise and locks Alexander in their room, plunging into it himself...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be out soon, loves! Read on and know that I LOVE your comments and support, ALWAYS! :D <3

John was the first one to come inside ten minutes after Burr had fled the Jefferson house. He wanted to make sure the coast was one-hundred and ten percent clear before coming up onto the porch and entering the back door. 

They heard the door slam, and Alexander and Thomas leaped apart in terror, both’s hair was messed up from deep kissing and there was surely swollen and glistening lips. 

“Shit, nice place.” John looked up and around, strolling into the parlor and observing the dome. Alexander’s heart thudded in his chest with a spurt of adrenaline when he whipped his head around. 

“Fucking Christ, John.” He sputtered, hand to chest and blinking rapidly, “you scared the shit out of me, man, oh my God...” John was still baffled at his surroundings, definitely looking very oddly comically out of place as he crossed further into the inside of the house. 

Thomas just slowly inched back towards Alexander, pressing against him on the couch, his eyes tracking John. Laurens was wearing worn leather boots, simple breeches and a shirt all under a black overcoat. There was nothing “formal” about him, as usual to Alexander, and he was a bit windswept and pink-cheeked from the cold outside. Alexander didn’t think anything of his usual appearance, but this was foreign, however, to Thomas. 

John inched up to one of the two chairs and looked at it as if he’d never seen a chair before in his life.   
“Can I… sit?” He spoke, laughing a bit and looking up to Alexander, “Kind of feels like a museum.” 

Alex laughed at this show, “Sit down, weirdo.” he pulled his own legs up onto the couch, and Thomas’s arm tightened around his waist. John exhaled and sat back into the chair, and Alexander felt Thomas tense against him. There was a deep, rumbling vibration pressed to Alexander’s ribs that only he could detect. Alexander looked up to his dom’s face and noticed that he was staring intently at John, dark eyes piercing into him, sharp brows pulled in standoffish-ly.

John looked confusedly from Thomas to Alexander.   
“We good…?” he laughed nervously, clearly remembering their last encounter where Thomas had beaten him unconscious, and not feeling too fond of that memory. Alexander elbowed Thomas lightly in the ribs.   
“We are. He just wants you to take your shoes off.”   
“Ahh.” John made a noise of understanding, leaning over to kick off his shoes and leave them there. 

“And does he speak?” John jested, looking up at Thomas, who’s face didn’t move. 

“Depends. Do you understand English?” he drawled deeply, hiding extremely well what only Alexander knew was a sneer.

There was a beat of nervous silence. And then John burst out laughing, keeling forward and slapping his knee. Alexander hardly watched him for a moment before he was laughing too, trying to hold down a snort but failing miserably. 

“What the hell?” Thomas sneered, curling his lip, but seeing the two of them lose their shit made him break involuntarily into a suppressed grin too. He coughed to cover it up.

John wheezed, breathless as he leaned back into the seat.   
“I like this one.” he gasped, pointing at Thomas. Alexander nodded, face red and tried to catch his breath.   
“Yeah man, me too.” He shifted closer into Thomas, wiping his own mouth, “Me fucking too.” 

Thomas hardly had time to make his own comment before the door opened and slammed again, the clunking of hard leather boots against the wood could be heard before another body stepped into the parlor. More sturdy and stocky than John, Hercules opened his arms wide and strolled into the room. His bandana was tied around his head and he was just as windswept as John had been, bringing in the slight scent of horses from the stables. 

“Laurens, Hams!” he greeted the two, and then nodded to Thomas, “Secretary Jefferson.” he rounded behind John’s chair and took the one next to it, flopping gratefully down in the luscious cushions. Thomas gave his dark eyebrows a bit of a twitch at the respectful address of his name, contented. 

“Mr. Mulligan, I assume.” he nodded in return.   
“That’s my name.” Hercules responded, taking off his shoes because John had gestured to them, also satisfying Thomas. The man leaned in close to Alexander’s ear.   
“They learn quickly when they’re afraid.” he jested lightheartedly, laughing as Alexander elbowed him.   
“Be nice, Thomas. Be nice.” 

Thomas growled, “Only because they’re your friends.” he grunted, trying to seem disgruntled as he pulled his head away, giving Alexander an eyebrow twitch. He was in love with him; Thomas definitely had a soft spot for the immigrant, and Alexander knew this. 

“Liquor, gentlemen?” Thomas had leaned forward and uncapped the whiskey once again, forcing himself to be decent to them.   
John and Hercules showed immediate interest and Alexander hopped up to go get more glasses from the kitchen, giving Thomas a quick kiss on the cheek before trotting off. The other two hardly seemed to notice, already wrapped up in an invested conversation with Thomas about brewing, finally breaking the ice. 

“It’s not about the temperature, per se, it’s about the timing--thank you, Alexander--that truly affects that aspect.” Alex didn’t understand a word of what the three were saying, all he could do was pour everyone a glass and sit back, snuggled against Thomas’s side and smile into his whiskey. He was so happy that they were getting along so well from the get-go, he almost forgot the horrible events that brought them there. What they were waiting for.

For a few blissful minutes, things were very surreal. For a few minutes, Alexander felt like he was… home. His friends and his boyfriend all chilling out together for a drink, having a conversation about breweries that flowed into other topics of conversation that Alexander could jump into. It almost felt… normal. Like they led normal lives. 

John raised his glass, already half empty, and everyone else followed along, Thomas not raising it too high to be inconvenient for himself, of course.

“To you two hellraisers.” he began, drawing a laugh out of Alexander, “And Jefferson, who’s actually kind of cool despite the fact that this is the wackest situation I’d ever thought I’d be in.” he turned his face to Alexander, smiling warmly.   
“And the fact that it’s not weird to know you two are taking each other to Pound-Town.” Alexander snorted out loud, “I’m just glad to see my man so happy.” John finished.

“Raise a glass for happiness.” Hercules echoed, taking a happy swig.   
“Raise a fucking glass for Pound-Town.” Alexander laughed taking a sip of his own as well as everyone else around the table. 

Thomas sneered, curling his lip at Alexander, “They are obscene.” he whispered.  
Alexander just pushed closer and hummed, “What were you expecting?”   
“Sexual decency.”   
“Says YOUR ass.”   
Thomas dug his nails into Alexander’s skin just enough to prick him a bit and make him gasp.   
“You love me.” Alexander shot back under his breath. Thomas just sighed and shook his head, taking a light sip of his own glass. Alex was right, of course. 

Three knocks rang out through the house, crisp and clear.

The men around the table fell silent, a hush descending over them as their smiles faded to stony expressions. It was almost like the sound had jolted them back to what was going on here, the seriousness of what they were doing, and it blanketed them light nighttime, a morbid silence. 

Thomas sniffed to break the grave soundlessness, leaning forward slowly and placing his glass on the table so gently it didn't make a noise. He licked his lips and began to stand, towering over the rest of the men.   
“I’ll get the door.” He spoke too cooly, moving around the couch but Alexander snagged his hand.   
“Sit the fuck-”

“Alexander.” Thomas barked immediately, shooting him a sharp, biting look that made Alexander back down in submission, lowering his head.  
They all knew that it could be Martha, Eliza, and Lafayette. Or it could be the authorities knocking on their door to drag the guilty lovers away. 

There was no point in fighting Thomas now; he would not budge. 

John and Hercules glanced nervously back and forth between the two before Thomas inhaled a deep breath and kept walking, his strides collected and even as he padded away to the door.   
“Doesn’t tolerate a sharp tongue, does he?” John set his glass on the table and bounced his foot nervously.   
“You don’t know the half of it.” Alexander exhaled with puffed cheeks, shaking his head lightly. All they could do was wait there. 

And then there were voices. Loud voices echoing through the house. Alexander’s eyes widened and his head darted from Herc to John. There were several people. They heard many footsteps, heavy falling footsteps rapidly approaching the parlor.  
No. 

John’s mouth was open and he looked to Alexander.   
“Go.” He spoke, looking over his shoulder as the double doors to the parlor burst open, Alexander’s muscles bunched up beneath him, ready to bolt. “GO!” 

“Alexander!” A grandiose voice filled the space warmly, Alexander had already stood and was positioned to flee in a defensive position. The man in the doorframe laughed heartily at Alexander’s wide eyed fear. 

“Oh relax yourself, monsieur Hams, you’ll frighten the ladies.”   
Alexander released a huge breath of relief and fell back onto the couch, scared half to death. 

“Lafs I SWEAR to FUCKING god, announce yourself better than that.” 

Lafayette only laughed, strolling into the room trailed by Martha and Eliza, Thomas holding the door. They all filed into the living room with a shuffling of fabric, glancing around themselves like they’d never been there before. Watching from the couch, heart still pumping adrenaline through him, Alexander thought he’d never seen such an odd assortment of people in the same room. And under the oddest fucking curcumstances. 

“Monsieur Jefferson, most pleased to meet you.” Lafayette approached Thomas as the girls made their way to the couch, taking his face in his hand and giving him a loud kiss on either cheek. Thomas followed along smoothly and reciprocated, the francophile inclined towards the French customs. Nevertheless, Alexander pricked up a bit with one thought: 'mine'. 

“C'est un plaisir de rencontrer votre connaissance.” Thomas spoke with perfect inflection in his deep voice, and shook his hand firmly, perhaps trying to impress him. The girls settled down next to Alexander with breathless smiles and Alexander took them in. Thomas was right.

Eliza was thriving; her hair was pinned up in a braid that was fraying from riding through the night, and her cheeks were rosy with color. There was a glint in her eye that he always saw on Christmas. And he smiled at her.   
“Hey.” he spoke simply. She smiled brightly at him, “Hey.” she breathed back. 

“Votre maison est magnifique. Tout comme la France, oui?”  
“Je serais très heureux de vous faire visiter, mais dans des circonstances différentes.” 

Thomas was smirking lightly now, raising his chin. Clearly Lafayette was flattering the alpha in the room and Thomas approved deeply of him. Alexander couldn’t decide whether to roll his eyes at Lafs suckig up, or Thomas being helplessly arrogant, so he rolled them at both.   
“Oui oui. Une autre fois, c'est sûr.”  
“Pour sûr.” Thomas concurred, raising his chin and striding back to Alexander, he placed himself on the crowded couch between Alexander and Martha, squeezing in so that Alex was basically under him. 

“You’re crushing me Thomas, ow.” Alexander grumbled, trying to push Thomas, but he just shuffled down tighter.  
“There’s nowhere else TO go, Alexander, suck it up.” Thomas sneered.

Lafayette finished greeting Hercules and John, sitting down on the arm of John’s chair between the two. And once he had scooted into a comfortable place, everyone was kind of quiet. 

Hercules sniffed, looking at the ground. Eliza picked at the lace at her sleeve hem.   
What was there to really say? They’d planned out the night up until this point… and now they were here.

Alexander was feeling the awkwardness too but he was too impatient and rash to let it go on for any longer.

“So yeah, thank you all for coming.” he laughed, and the odd assortment around the room snickered lightly. Thomas “hmph”-ed in amusement next to him.   
“Sorry if the three of us are making it awkward for you.” John laughed nervously, looking up from his hands to Alexander. The immigrant was puzzled, and all at once realized how weird this had to be to THEM. In fact, it was ludicrous!

“The fuck you mean? I was going to applaud you all for acting like this isn’t weird as shit.”  
Lafayette tensed up and glanced quickly to John and Herc.   
“It’s not weird as shit that you found a loving-” Alexander cut him off, rolling his eyes.

“NO Lafs you all can snap out of it. It’s weird. I fucking hate this loser and we’re dating. And our wives hooked up too. This is the biggest plot twist I’VE ever seen and I fought at Yorktown.” 

The guys chuckled morbidly except for Thomas, of course, who was ambassador to France at the time. Alexander crossed his legs, leaning back and throwing an arm around Thomas’s shoulders.   
“What I’m saying is, you don’t have to pretend this is normal, this is some of the most ludicrous shit ever to go down in history. It’d be ludicrous if we WEREN'T gathering here after making a mission to save our asses using the President of the United States.” 

“Well, shit, when you say it like that-” Lafayette laughed.  
“Yeah, when I say it how it IS, it’s weird.” Alexander nodded, proving his point and relenting. 

“Not WEIRD.” Martha butted in, and Thomas elbowed him when he rolled his eyes, “Just will require some getting used to.” 

Hercules pointed at her and snapped at the same time, “Exactly.” he dipped his head to her and took a sip of his whiskey which he never put down. John nodded to himself,   
“Yeah. I mean obviously I’m used to your relationship being different.” 

“Oh don’t water it down, John, we’re used to them tearing at each other’s throats.” Herc laughed in pure honesty.   
“Heh heh… Ironic.” Alexander mumbled under his breath to Thomas, who elbowed him for the millionth time that night.

“I guess I just have to remember not to hold you two apart when you’re together now.”   
“Ironically that’s still going to be a problem.” Thomas drawled, trailing an arm lazily around Alexander’s waist and letting it rest on his hip, making Alexander GLOW even if he didn't show it.

Hercules watched and sighed deeply, shaking his head. 

“Well, at least this gives me hope.” He looked up to a puzzled Alexander and smiled.   
“If Alexander’s scrappy ass finds love with his political rival there’s hope for fucking anyone, man.” He didn’t even finish the sentence before everyone was wheezing, Alexander scoffing in an “I see how it is” kind of way that was fended off by a laughing kiss from Thomas.

Once everyone had settled down and wiped tears from their watering eyes, Thomas offered some whiskey to Martha and Eliza who accepted. Everyone settled down into their seats, getting cozy because this was going to be a long night and nobody wanted to go home and deal with the anticipation on their own. They all wanted this to last just a little while longer, all the friends squeezed together in a sitting area with one bottle of whiskey and stories to tell. 

“So.” Lafayette sniffed, swirling his whiskey, “How did you get together?” Alexander immediately sucked air in through his teeth, looking over at Eliza and Martha hesitantly. Thomas had laughed nervously and leaned back too, exhaling. 

“I’d tell if you guys are alright with hearing.” he spoke to the girls who laughed it off.   
“You think we care?” Martha snorted, formality falling off a bit with the edge of whiskey, “Eliza and I are good and well, your story will be a good laugh.” 

Alexander was tempted to stick his tongue out at her but with Thomas’s tight hand around his waist, he knew better. Alex cleared his throat and put his feet up on the table sniffing and clearing his throat to begin.   
“Well, I was really just doing my own shit in the Treasury department one night, completely minding my own business.” He shrugged and raised a hand up innocently, “And Thomas comes in, harrasses me, and I kind of… you know… tell him to go away-”

“Bull. Shit.” Thomas enunciating, turning his head to Alexander exaggeratedly, making everyone settle in. This was bound to be interesting. 

Thomas smirked incredulously, “You’re going to deny that you slammed me up against that wall the first time because you had NO idea who you were dealing with.”   
“Maybe.”  
“Fuck you.” Thomas shook his head, looking at the rest of the circle, “Allow me, this cretin obviously has the memory capacity of a teaspoon.” 

And the two of them launched into a story that was far more exciting than how they even remembered it. The more they recalled, the more beautiful it became.  
It was funny at times, leaving everyone snorting for at least several minutes, like the time the two had gone to the same restaurant as James Madison and George Washington. Some parts were intense seat-grippers, where Thomas and Alexander had fought out by the kitchen or where Thomas had dashed to the treasury and desperately picked a lock to get in like some sort of thief. 

Some parts were so sad that everyone fell silent while one spoke... And just listened. 

When Alexander had left Thomas in the cellar of the Tavern when he told him he’d loved him. Just left him there alone. And when Alexander had burst into the Treasury to tell Thomas that he was sorry but he was already too late...

But what struck them most... was by the time the two of them concluded, they realized that despite all of the intensity and pain, the raging fights and long nights of wondering how they were ever going to get up again…   
SO much of their story had been beautiful. SO much of it was running to the lake with wind in their hair and laughter wheezing out of them until they couldn’t laugh anymore. 

SO much of their story was dancing as they rain fell to the neighbor’s music, tumbling to the couch and fighting for who gets to read out of the book first, cuddling up on one another for hours on end. So much of their story was long, quiet, summer nights, just… matching each other’s breathing as they fell asleep. 

And as they concluded quietly, everyone in the room was silent for a long time.

Everyone had slowly fallen into place, Eliza curled and laying her head in Martha’s lap, Lafayette slowly slipping until he was sharing a seat with John, the two leaning heads as they listened. And everyone just closed their eyes and let it sink in. The crazy part was that Alexander didn’t feel awkward having just told everyone their story. He felt free; he felt heard, and he knew Thomas did too. 

After quite some time of silence, Hercules finally spoke. His tone was soft.   
“I hope Washington sent Burr straight to hell.” he shook his head with solemn genuinity. It was so purely spiked with hatred. Everyone nodded. 

“How do we know if we’ve won?” John asked quietly. Alexander’s heart ached. ‘We’… He had called all of them ‘we’...

Eliza tilted her head a bit, Martha gently playing with her hair.   
“I don’t know… Washington picked up the letter as planned and then… Burr left fleeing down the road on his horse. It could mean anything.” Her brown eyes found their way to Alexander’s and softened. There was worry in them; it was clear as day. 

Lafayette breathed in and lifted his head from the top of John’s, the two friends stiff from staying in the same place for so long. He blinked exhaustedly to the whole group. They were all slowly drowsing off from the taxation of the day.   
“Maybe it’s time to head to head home, oui?” he spoke tiredly, rubbing a hand over his eyes. 

“Why don’t you all…” Thomas spoke, eyes widening in surprise at his own words, “Stay…” He finished as if he was questioning himself. Alexander looked up at him and couldn’t believe that he was offering to let everyone sleep here. His friends that were made for the streets and wore what Thomas saw as rags...  
he was going to let them stay. 

“Martha, Ms. Elizabeth, there’s a room down here to the right of the entrance hall. And Monsieur Lafayette, Mr. Laurens, Mr. Mulligan, upstairs there’s plenty of rooms. Or one large one that fits three.” He swallowed and pulled Alexander just a bit closer, “You can feel free to head home whenever you please in the morning, just get some rest for the night.” 

Alexander’s friends and Martha and Eliza glanced at each other and smiled, exchanging a few words and then nodding.  
“I guess we’re off, then.” Eliza nodded to Thomas as Martha led her by the hand to the guest room downstairs. Lafayette rose and gave Thomas another two wet kisses.   
“We are most grateful for your hospitality, Monsieur Jefferson. mille merci à toi” 

Thomas dipped his powerful head, watching the odd group file out of the parlor, “Bonne nuit.” He drawled respectfully. 

And then it was just Thomas and Alexander.

Alexander turned his face up to Thomas.  
“Well, well, well. Thomas Jefferson showing his social side.” he poked. The taller sneered and stood elegantly from his place on the couch.   
“I am a very sociable man, Alexander.” It was Alexander’s turn to snort, tilting back the rest of his whiskey and placing it with the other empty glasses.   
“Yeah, you with the rest of the aristocracy.” 

Thomas rolled his eyes and stacked the glasses. Alexander watched him intently, eyes squinting in concentration for a few moments. He felt so many things; he was heartwarmed that Thomas let his friends stay, scared shitless for what would happen tomorrow, and he was a bit tipsy, just pleasantly buzzed. Which meant he was horny. And Thomas was looking like… well… Thomas. 

“Thomas, you’re cute.” he decided, standing up and immediately swaying to his right. Thomas breathed a curse and stepped quickly to catch him, arranging the little one so he was propped against his side and glared down at him. 

“You know what YOU are? A lightweight.” He sneered harshly, bending down to scoop Alexander up into his arms, “Come on.”   
Alex snorted and didn’t resist, wrapping his legs around Thomas’s waist as they thumped to the bedroom. It was definitely time to put Alexander to sleep, Thomas thought.

The immigrant leaned in and gave Thomas’s ear a sharp bite out of nowhere. 

“Shit!-- what the fuck was that?” Thomas yelped and then growled quietly, pushing the door open to their room. Alexander continued to bite and gnaw at his jawline like it was his last meal, grinning stupidly.   
“You know what would be fun?” He breathed hotly against Thomas’s ear, smirking. Thomas dug his nails into Alexander’s thighs, scowling at him.   
“Going to bed.” Thomas grumbled in annoyance. 

“No, dad.” Alexander rolled his eyes as if Thomas was being silly and gave the Virginian’s ear a hot lick, “If you would fuck me right here on the floor, Thomas.” he whispered filthily into his hear and grinded slowly against Thomas’s belly. 

Thomas tossed him down onto the bed, but Alexander popped right back up, head spinning a bit. The taller stood in front of him with the air of a strict school teacher and crossed his arms.   
“There’s five other people in this house, Alexander, do you not think they’d hear you fucking screaming?” He snarled incredulously. Alexander just laughed and scowled in confusion. 

“That’s the whole point, you dumb fuck.” he sneered, snagging Thomas’s cravat and yanking him forward. That was a big mistake, but he was slightly too tipsy to see Thomas gaping in complete disbelief at this blatant lack of respect. 

“Alexander Hamilton…” he hissed between clenched teeth.   
“Force me to be quiet, big boy. Force me to hold my tongue.” Alex bit his lip, gazing into Thomas’s outraged eyes, “I want them to hear me anyway.” 

Thomas was silent in shock, dumbstruck by Alexander’s words. The little one only grinned at him, flashing those fiery eyes right into his own, watching the fury grow.  
Thomas’s mouth was open in disgust as he slowly... slowly raised a hand, still speechless. And then smacked it across Alexander’s mouth with a “thwap!”. 

Alexander’s head snapped to the side, hair covering his face but he brought it right back, surging forward, laughing, and positively YANKING Thomas down onto the bed on top of him. Not expecting it, Thomas fell forward on Alexander. 

“Harder.” Alexander breathed, smacking his mouth to Thomas’s roughly, “Come on, Thomas, fuck me.” he whined on Thomas’s tongue, grinding deeply up on Thomas’s waitcoat,  
“Come on.” 

Thomas swung leg over him and sat on his hips, holding those down, and grabbed both wrists, growling and digging his nails into the soft flesh as he pinned them on either side of his head to the mattress. The Virginian’s dark eyes shot WRATH at Alexander, piercing him. 

“You have no idea… how hard I am holding myself back right now. NO idea.” He spat.  
“Then don’t.” Alexander wiggled beneath him, scowling up, “Bring it on, you piece of shit-” He hardly finished before Thomas had his wrists in one hand over his head, the other hand shot right to his throat, making him choke.

Thomas held his neck down to the bed, pressing and restricting so he had just enough to breathe, but not enough to backtalk him.   
“Alright, you disgusting little fucker.” he spat very close to his face, teeth bared, “Listen carefully because I’m only saying this once. Once, Alexander.” 

He didn’t continue until Alex had tried to nod, showing his understanding. 

“Good. First of all, don’t you DARE ever talk back to me.” He snarled, pricking him with his nails, “You want to mouth off, and run your tongue, I’ll wash your mouth out in the bathroom without a moment’s hesitation. Capiche?” He scowled at Alexander with those dark brows, not going on anymore until Alex had nodded to him, glowering. Thomas snarled once again, trying desperately not to devour his perfect little mouth. 

“Secondly, if I hear something that filthy come out of your mouth again, I’m washing it out with soap.” He sneered, curling his lip, “How dare you mock me for wanting to watch myself pound your pathetic whore-ass and then have the fucking audacity to SPEAK to me of wanting people to listen.” he squeezed him harder for a split second just to hear him choke. 

Thomas lowered his face close to Alexander’s but not close enough that Alex could kiss him.  
“You’re disgusting…” he breathed onto Alex’s mouth, watching the one under him squirm and bare his teeth, so helpless under his powerful hand. Thomas could feel Alexander getting harder and harder under him, the slut shaming and raw brutality making him desperate for a fucking.

“And lastly, I will NEVER fuck you when you’re drunk.” He sneered quietly and then pushed Alexander’s throat down harder than ever before letting it go. Thomas swung off the bed, brushing his hands together like he had just dealt with the week’s garbage. Alexander just laid there, sputtering and rubbing his own throat. 

The little one turned his head,  
“I’m not drunk.” he coughed, watching Thomas loosen his cravat and begin to undress, dainty as usual.  
“You’re under the influence.”   
“I am NOT you dumb whore.” Alexander sat up and fell right back down, earning him a dark, raised eyebrow from Thomas in the mirror.   
“Don’t. Talk. Back to me. Alexander.” he clipped, enunciating clearly as he stripped his shirt, hanging it in the wardrobe, “You need to start watching your fucking mouth.” 

But Alex wasn’t listening, he was too busy stewing.   
“You’re just being vanilla.” He grumbled, picking at the hem of their blanket. 

Thomas paused, turning around for a moment to stare, open-mouthed at Alexander. 

“ExCUSE me?” he sneered.   
“You heard me” Alexander nodded, turning onto his side and pointing at Thomas, happy that he was working him up again, “Your vanilla ass can’t handle the thought of everyone hearing us.” He curled his lip, shaking his head and going back to picking at the thread.   
“Fucking pansy ass.” He spat under his breath. 

Thomas dead-ass STARED at him as seconds ticked by. He didn’t fucking move, his icy eyes just boring into Alexander’s point blank. Alex had no idea what he was going to do to him, but he’d take anything at this point. He was horny and he wanted Thomas now.   
He waited. 

And then, completely without warning, Thomas opened his mouth and moaned extremely loudly.   
“OH! Alexander! FUCK!” Somehow he managed this while still maintaining his stone-cold glower, face showing no expression but anger. Alexander’s jaw dropped. 

“You like that? OH GOD! YES!” his voice rang through the house.   
Alexander positively GAPED. Thomas had really fucking done that, just to prove his point. And hearing him so vocal was definitely a turn-on. Alex felt a smile tug at the corner of his open mouth; he shook his head slowly at Thomas in awe. 

“Wow. Note to self, DON’T call you vanilla.”   
“You want any more, or are you satisfied?” Thomas spoke evenly, icy eyes slicing into his partner’s. 

“Not satisfied, that’s for sure. Shit…” Alex shuffled in the bed, laughing awkwardly to give Thomas full awareness of uncomfortable hardness.   
“I think you would be committing a crime not to fuck me now.” Alexander winced, “Cruel and unusual punishment.” 

“And since when is it unusual for me to leave you with a boner for as long as I wish?” Thomas shot right back at Alexander trying to tell him what to do. The Virginian stepped to the bed and climbed in over his partner, just wearing pants, and shuffled down into the covers, yanking them back to his side. 

“This is why I should just do it myself…” Alex grumbled rolling on his side to face away from Thomas who just hummed, reeling him back in and holding him against his body.   
“Not without permission, you won’t.” He reminded, giving Alex’s hair a tug and sucking at the side of his neck, leaving the skin bruised with a pop. 

“I still don’t see why you won’t fuck me.” Alex complained, “It’s not fair.”  
“Actually, the other way around, Alexander.” Thomas sighed, blowing out the candle and working to undress the immigrant under the covers. 

“Huh?”   
“If you don’t have proper judgement, you can’t give consent. And my ass if I ever do anything without consent.” 

He pulled Alex closer, breathing in his hair and kissing the top of his head. Alexander just smiled, trying not to laugh. “Wow, Thomas, you are such a mommy’s boy.” 

“No, I am a decent human being.”   
“Ehhh… okay, maybe not THAT far.” Alexander laughed as Thomas squeezed him so hard he yelped. 

“Will you at least give me head in the morning?” Alex complained, pushing back up against Thomas and fluffing his pillow up, “French blow jobs are my new favorite thing.”   
“Mm.” Thomas grunted, holding Alex’s hip bones and pulling him back into himself HARD, giving him one grind that made Alex whimper.  
“You better mean MY blowjobs, bitch.” He growled jealously before relenting his grip. 

“Yeah, yeah. You only you.”   
“Fine. Not like it’ll take too long.” Thomas mocked him.   
“HEY last time I had already just fucked you for, like ten minutes.”   
“You lasted precisely thirty seconds, Alexander.”   
“Fuck you.”   
“Slut.”   
“French whore.”   
“Fucking twink.” 

And then they were both smiling and cuddled up against each other, warm and completely intertwined as much as humanly possible. Despite moving and twitching every once in a while, the two lovers were completely still, their breathing subconsciously matching with one another as they tried to fall asleep.

But they were both still awake despite their closed eyes, despite the night marching on towards the next day. 

Alexander watched the familiar patch of moonlight crawl across the floor. It was peaceful in there, very peaceful. Just himself and Thomas. He thought about their friends around and above them, all sleeping quietly, dreaming. And yet he couldn’t. 

After an hour, Thomas stirred a bit and exhaled, brushing his fingertips over Alexander’s belly. His voice rumbled against Alex’s body, breaking the silence.   
“What’s on your mind, baby?” he whispered, kissing right in front of his ear, “Hm?” Alexander sighed too. Closing his eyes and rubbing them slowly and tiredly. 

“Can’t sleep.” he mumbled. Thomas rolled his eyes and licked his lips.  
“Well. I can see that.” He breathed, kissing him again, “I asked what’s on your mind.” 

The little one didn’t answer for a minute, not wanting to break the peace. He knew what was worrying him, and it was worrying Thomas too. He just wanted to stay in this room forever. 

“I just…” he began, sighing, “I’m just scared of being in the dark. Whatever happened with Washington tonight, we have no way of knowing if it went to shit.” He explained to the room, “We won’t know if they’re coming to drag us to the noose until they’re thumping on the door.” 

“You’re right.” Thomas grumbled, “We don’t.”  
Alex thought he was going to say something else, something encouraging or reassuring, but he didn’t say anything else. Silence.

Alexander’s brows furrowed and he turned his head over, looking for the dark glint of Thomas’s in the dim moonlight. 

“That’s it? Nada?” Alex scowled at him, “Well shit. Thanks.”   
Thomas just growled a bit and found his eyes.

“What do you want me to say, Alexander?” he spoke lowly, “That everything is going to be okay?”   
The immigrant’s heart started to pang with every glum beat. He looked down and bit his lip. His eyes welled up with tears as he realized that he DIDN’T want Thomas to say that. To lie to him. He didn't want the false security.

“No.” He breathed, barely more than a whisper. 

They just stayed still, holding each other for a long time.  
Thomas sighed again, knowing he wasn’t doing this right.   
“We just have to hope, okay?” He tightened his arms around Alex the subtlest amount, maybe even hopning his partner wouldn’t notice, but of course he did. 

“We put everything we had into that letter. I know you know that.” He shook his head genuinely, feeling a wet splash of Alexander’s silent tear falling on his arm.   
“And tomorrow, we could wake up with Washington on our doorstep saying everything is fine.” Another tear fell and Thomas held him closer, “You hear me?” 

“Yeah.”   
“Everything COULD be fine. But you’re right. We can’t know until it’s happening.”   
Alexander exhaled a very shaky breath, “I know.” he breathed. 

Thomas took his chin gently in his hand, making him look right into his eyes.   
“I love you.” He spoke with startling sincerity, “No matter what happens.” 

Alex smiled, salty tears falling into his hair and nodded, “I love you too.” it came out as more of a weak whimper, and he swallowed. And Thomas pulled his face forward just the slightest bit to kiss him. It was gentle and tender more than anything. They stayed like that for a long time, their lips softly against one another’s, fitting like they were created for the sole purpose of fitting into each other.

When Alexander let his head fall back to the pillow, he grinned softly at Thomas in the dark. 

“And also, what you did today… for my friends…” he breathed, tucking some hair behind his own ear, “Letting them come in and talking to them like they aren’t street rats.” Alexander sniffed and bit his lip, trying not to let emotion sweep him away.   
“That was pretty fucking cool. Thank you, Thomas.” 

“Oh… Sweetie…” Thomas laughed quietly, placing another kiss lightly on his lips, “Anyone who’s willing to risk their necks to help you is nothing less than a king in my eyes.” Thomas spoke with stark genuinity, “And a friend.” 

Alexander was absolutely moved by his words and had none in return. A deep kiss with more bittersweet tears was all he could offer, and Thomas gratefully accepted, wrapping him up deeper into his embrace. 

As Alexander laid there, so warm, so safe, he wondered how the hell in this twisted, cruel world had he been so lucky. How he had found Thomas through all of the hell they had been through. That festering little Caribbean island seemed so far behind him now… it was impossible. It was so far and Thomas was so close, just right THERE. 

He understood what Thomas had promised to him the night before; he definitely understood it now.

He wasn’t going to leave Thomas Jefferson. 

**

At sunrise Alexander woke up and carefully pulled the blanket away from his legs, cautiously monitoring Thomas’s face the entire time. The problem now was that Thomas’s arms were wrapped around his waist and a leg hooked over him too, getting out would be like trying not to wake a light-sleeping lion. 

“Umm…” Alexander whispered to himself, gingerly touching Thomas’s arm that was over him and lifting it just the slightest amount, so that he could wiggle out bit by bit. Thomas stirred and Alex’s eyes darted to Thomas’s face, grimacing in anticipation, but he just settled back into his deep breathing pattern. 

Alexander exhaled a relieved breath before raising Thomas’s leg with his own and wiggling out, slowly lowering it back down to the bed with his foot, and he was free. 

“Okay…” Alexander huffed, sliding carefully out of bed and padding barefoot across the floor. He shivered with cold and realized he should’ve stolen one of Thomas’s shirts, but he’d be fine. The fire would soon be blazing and keeping him plenty warm. 

Hunching against the crisp morning air, Alexander scurried outside to the kitchen and back with a basket of uncooked breakfast foodstuffs, and ducked back inside. 

The Caribbean padded into the parlor and looked around, the curtains were drawn so he went to each one and opened them up, grunting and struggling because the place to tie them was so high up, but he managed. When he had finally finished the last one and turned around, he started in shock. 

“Eliza.” he sputtered. She was just standing and leaning against the door, fully dressed. She was smiling fondly as if she had been watching him for a few minutes. 

Her eyes just twinkled as she placed a finger to her lips in a shushing motion and Alexander quickly closed his mouth, nodding.   
“Sorry.” He whispered, walking over to her and wiping a hand across his forehead to clear away the hair. 

“Curtains giving you trouble?” She laughed lightly, standing up from her leisurely, leaned position and cocking her head at him.   
“Kind of. If I wasn’t so damned short.” He huffed in annoyance, and she hummed. 

A moment followed where they both just looked at their feet awkwardly, not speaking, or not knowing exactly what to say. Alexander coughed slightly, trying to find his voice. 

“You, uh, sleep well?” he asked, looking back up.   
“Oh yes, yes.” She responded a little too quickly and gave a little cough herself, knowing that she had, “I came in here for my Brunswick, I seemed to have left it.” She cast a glance to the couch where her red coat was, indeed, laying there.   
“It’s cold this morning and Martha and I were just about to head out.” 

Alexander nodded, pursing his lips.

“What are you doing up so early on a Sunday?” She inquired laughingly, eyes twinkling again with mischief, knowing his sleeping tendencies. Alexander laughed nervously and scratched the back of his neck. 

“Yeah… I was--uh--actually gonna make something. For Thomas.”   
She stared blankly at him, “Like… breakfast?” She inquired slowly. Alex shrugged. 

She stood quietly for another moment before bursting out into a chortling snort. Alexander looked around him for a moment before realizing she was laughing at him.   
“What?” he scoffed. She gained her composure.

“Alex, darling, you can’t cook.” She grinned widely and shook her head; she knew him well. Alex took on a defensive position.   
“Yes I can, the tools are all there from Friday night.” Alex turned and walked towards the fireplace where Thomas had made dinner. 

He stopped in front of it, realizing he was clueless.   
“Uhh…” He stared blankly and glanced at Eliza who was watching him with the same twinkle in her eye, but he was determined.   
“Here we have the--uh--pot. There’s the pan. And this is like… a…” he held up a wrought iron fire-poker,  
“Scrapey… thing?” 

Eliza laughed again, approaching him from behind and placed a hand on his shoulder.   
“You need help, Alexander.” She stated matter-of-factly. The independent immigrant tried to fend it off but he knew it was hopeless; she was right. 

Alexander kneeled down, heaving a sigh of defeat, “Yeah kind of.” He laughed, “But just to get started.”   
She nodded enthusiastically and swept her hand across the mantle, finding the matches and handing them to Alexander who at least knew how to start a fire by heart.

And as the brunette watched him strike the matches with a smell of burning wood... she smiled lightly, a warm feeling spreading through her chest.

He had woken up at a time he would never have woken up at to do something he didn’t know how to do. For Thomas. And suddenly the words were out of her mouth before she could monitor their presence. 

“You really love him.” She stated, placing the warm, familiar hand on his shoulder. He looked up as the flame took to the wood, “Don’t you?” 

At first Alexander didn’t know what to say; it was definitely out of the blue, and his lips sputtered wordlessly. Would he offend her? But her familiar half smile urged him onwards.  
“Uh, yeah.” he laughed, feeling the truth in his words, “I really do, Eliza.” He breathed, feeling the absolute love ACHE in his heart. She smiled. 

“I’m proud of you, Alexander.” She whispered in a voice so genuine it made his face turn up to look into hers. And suddenly he felt guilty, SO guilty, shaking his head.   
“You shouldn’t be. I’ve been an asshole to you. I fucking cheated.” his voice crack as the sorry truth poured out, making him bite his lip, hard. Her brows furrowed with concern and she shook her head. 

“No. Alexander.” she enunciated, forcing his eyes back to hers.   
“Our lives are far too complex to put such simple terms on it. You know that.” Alexander was surprised by her wisdom but she was right. This was a fuckton more complicated than ‘someone cheated’, and they both knew that. 

Eliza squeezed his shoulder and continued.   
“All four of us were born different, and thank God we were thrown together completely by chance to discover something that changed our lives for the better.” 

“And did it?” Alexander asked quickly, eyes glistening. He found her gaze with desperation, eager to hear her own words, “Are you happy, Eliza? I have to know; I’ve been thinking about shit all the time and Thomas said that-” 

“Alexander.” She breathed, cutting him off with a smile, “I am.”   
Hearing it from her put so much relief to his restless mind. Alex just nodded, his heart releasing the stress it was holding. “Good.” he whispered. 

And after just a moment, the two of them slowly began to set the fireplace up with Eliza’s guidance, making sure all of the cooking ware was in the right place and Alexander knew at least generally how to use it. If there was any awkwardness before, their heartfelt conversation had cast it all away, letting it dissolve into the wind. And now they were just how they should be, comfortable friends to confide in. And Alexander was happy. 

“Elizabeth, you ready?” A voice whispered from the parlor door and Alex looked around. Martha had peeked her head in, travelling cap atop her blonde hair. She prickled a bit when she saw him; however, Eliza tamed her with a reassuring glance. 

“Yes.” The brunette rose and claimed her coat from the chair, turning back to Alexander one last time, and pulled him suddenly into a hug. Alex willingly returned.   
“We’ll see you soon. May Washington's judgement be fair.” She whispered to him, pulling away and striding to Martha. 

“Thank you.” Was all Alex could say, and then they were out the door. 

**

Thomas awoke to the smell of something burning.

The Virginian’s eyes shot open, a piercing thread of fear slicing through his chest and making him jump right to the worst conclusion. Oh God. 

He bolted upright in bed, head whipping frantically around for Alexander but he wasn’t there. He should be; it was just past sunrise. Thomas threw the blankets aside and took no time to throw on any clothes, he just thundered across the polished wood floors in his pants, stumbling through doors on the way. 

It was coming from the parlor.   
With one massive stride, he burst in like a charging bull, skidding to a stop and looking wildly around for signs of flames. 

“Hey babe--woah, you good?” a voice piped up.   
Thomas gasped for breath, adrenaline pumping like mad through his veins. Alexander was fine; he was right there at the fireplace, humming happily as he moved bacon from the pan to a plate as if nothing were the matter. 

Thomas still stood there, dumbstruck.

“WHAT is that burning smell?!” he spat, still looking up and around as if fire would descend on them at any moment.   
“Calm your cock, I’m making you breakfast.”   
“Breakfast?!” Thomas sputtered, standing there as if Christmas had been cancelled, “Breakfast my ass, it smells like the library of Alexandria in here.” He continued to yell at Alexander, who was rolling his eyes and pleasantly transferring eggs with a spatula. Thomas realized his yelling was futile.

“What the hell are you making? Charcoal?”   
“No.” Alexander sighed heavily and smiled, handing him a plate, “Eggs. Bacon. Breakfast.” Alex spoke condescendingly, “Ring a bell?”   
Thomas took it, dumbfounded, “Alexander. You can’t cook.” 

“Yes I can; I just burned it a couple times before I got it right.”

Thomas rolled his head back on his neck and groaned, already exasperated.   
“Sit, sit, come on.” Alexander dragged him to the couch and pushed him down, following closely with his own plate. 

“Did you at LEAST put the charred parts in the compost?” Thomas spoke strainedly as if it was his last hope in believing Alexander wasn’t a lost cause. Alexander shrugged. 

“No, in the fire. I’m not taking my ass outside in the cold for some dumb scraps. From dust it came and to dust it will return.”  
“Oh my God, Alexander…” Thomas buried his face in his hands in defeat.   
“Just come on, come on.” Alex kept urging, forcing a fork in his hand with some effort. Thomas groaned loudly and opened up his hand, taking the fork. The Virginian finally lifted his head.

“This better not taste like fresh shit, Hamilton, on God-”  
“Just TRY it.” Alexander cut him off putting his own plate on his lap and shoveling a bite into his mouth, “Jesus, Thomas, it’s like pulling teeth with you.”   
“Don’t talk with your mouth full.”   
“My mouth isn’t-”  
“What did I just say.” Thomas snapped and Alexander mocked his face with a scowl, grumbling and chewing his food. Alexander, instead, gestured with his head to the plate. 

Thomas made out a quick prayer to God before reluctantly gripping his fork and taking a bit, wondering if maybe he should just run for it as he placed it in his mouth and chewed. All previous thoughts were gone as soon as it touched his tongue. 

“Yeah?” Alexander’s eyes widened and a smile began to spread across his face. His boyfriend nodded, swallowing before speaking as an example.   
“Plain but not an atrocity of mankind.”   
“Well shit, thanks.” 

“Come here.” Thomas took his chin and gave him a quick kiss, making Alexander smile against his face. He pulled away with a little ‘mwah’, and looked into Alexander’s big eyes.   
“You did good. I’m proud of you.” 

Alex just laughed softly and lowered his voice, bashful at the flattery.   
“Ya ‘dun guud. I’m proud’a ya.” Thomas ruffed up his hair before returning to his plate, planning to eat the whole thing so that Alexander knew he was proud of him. 

“Hey yo what’s that burning smell?” 

Both their heads turned Alexander smiled. Hercules was walking through the threshold, sniffing and looking around with furrowed brows. Thomas immediately grabbed a pillow, putting it in front of his body to shield his partial nakedness.

“Morning to you too.” Alex scoffed, and eventually Herc’s eyes fell on them and went wide.   
“Oh--uh--sorry guys I didn’t mean to interrupt... anything.” he sputtered, looking quickly to the ground. Alex was confused. 

“Huh?” he looked from Herc to Thomas and back, smiling in understanding, “Herc, fucking God, he’s not naked, you perv.” Alexander laughed, “We weren't dicking one out.” 

Herc just stood there, confused.   
“Oh. Wait, then what’s with the random burning and shirtlessness?” Alexander rolled his eyes.   
“I was making breakfast.”   
Hercules immediately made a bewildered look, “Alex, you can’t cook.” he stated as if Alex had just declared two plus two is five. 

“Okay first of all why the fuck is everyone saying that?” Alexander scoffed in annoyance at the attack, making Thomas look at him as if he was three.   
“Because everyone knows you can’t cook.” Hercules and Thomas said at the EXACT same time, making the two look at each other and laugh helplessly. 

“Alright, alright. Fuck both of you.”  
“I’ll pass on that one, hard pass.” Hercules sucked in air between clenched teeth, shaking his head and making Alex flash him the finger.

Footsteps clunked up behind Herc and soon the young Frenchman and Laurens were in the doorway too, all three friends.   
“Hey. We were just gonna head ou--yo what’s that smell.” 

“Jesus Christ.” Alexander collapsed back onto the couch dramatically and Thomas snickered under his breath, taking a moment before turning those dark brown eyes to the friends.   
“Alexander here tried to make breakfast.” 

The two newcomers were silent. Cast one glance at another. And BURST out into wheezes,  
“Alexander can’t cook!” 

“Alright OUT.” Alex stood from the couch, leaving Thomas to laugh at him and approached his friends, ushering them out, shooing them with his hands.   
“I’ll walk you to the door, fuckheads.” He grumbled as his friends snickered and thudded out of the entrance hall, filing out the door. 

“See ya, Hams!” John called over his shoulder on the way to his horse, “Hope you had fun with Jefferson last night! Sounded like it.”   
“Yeah good riddance.” Alexander sneered and got the collective middle finger from all of them. Sighing in the crisp morning air, Alexander felt a deep satisfaction. He loved those guys. So much. 

The immigrant hummed and turned himself around, heading back inside for some much needed alone time with his boyfriend. He could distantly hear the crunching of hooves on gravel whilst his friends rode away at a lazy trot, and Alex closed the door behind him, letting the stillness of inside envelope his ears. Phew.

The Treasurer made his way back to Thomas and flopped down on the couch with an exhausted sigh, melting all over him.   
“Assholes.”   
“You know.. I think I rather like them.” Thomas spoke daintily after some consideration.  
“Yeah, because they’re assholes to me.”  
“Exactly.”   
“Bitch.” 

Alexander finished his food and set it down on the table with a clink, turning to his Thomas.   
“Did we fuck last night?” he asked after suddenly realizing what John said, “I can’t remember.” 

Thomas immediately laughed, puffing his arrogant chest.   
“I knew you were drunk.” he sneered, pulling Alex close to him and putting the little one’s legs across his. 

“Actually, Alexander.” he spat his name a bit harshly, “You wouldn’t believe what you did.”   
“Oh yippee.” Alexander drawled unenthusiastically, “Time for another ‘what Alexander did when he was wasted’ special edition, by Thomas Jefferson.” 

Thomas ignored him.  
“I carried you to bed and you attacked me first.”   
Alex rolled his eyes, knowing he was exaggerating, “You proceeded to beg me for sex, grinding and humping me like an animal in heat. And then…” Thomas turned those dark, threatening eyes down to scowl at him. 

“You said you wanted everyone to hear us.” He leered in his low whisper. Alexander let a disbelieving smile spread across his face, as he shook his head slowly.   
“Oh my fucking God…” he breathed, unable to say much more for a moment, “Did you beat the shit out of me?” 

“I hit you.” Thomas states matter-of-factly, “And YOU... surged forward to wrench me down to the bed and hump me some more, so naturally I took you by the throat to tell you I don’t fuck when you’re drunk.”   
Alexander snickered, amused by the recount. 

“And then…” Thomas delved into Alexander’s light brown eyes with his own sharp ones, twitching his brows, he drew his face close so that their lips were brushing when he spoke, “You called me vanilla.” 

Alexander’s jaw dropped.   
“Ohhhh shittt….” he laughed breathily, interested. Thomas, at this point, began to trail a light hand up and down Alexander’s thigh, just teasing his body and never going too high. Finally, some action.

“I did not find that respectful, Alexander. Not at all.” he spoke sternly, shaking his head, “And how, oh how, was I to punish you without fucking you?” He cooed gently, trailing the hand now to Alexander’s lower belly, tracing light circles with his fingernails. Alex just watched his hand, breath beginning to pick up in excitement. 

“So… What’d you do?” Alexander breathed hotly onto Thomas’s mouth. The larger hummed and squinted his piecing eyes.

“I moaned for everyone else to hear. And oh, did they HEAR it, Alexander.” he purred, pulling at the string of Alexander’s pants in one jerking movement so that they untied, making Alex gasp onto his lips.   
“You were humiliated.” 

“Yeah?” Alex smiled, arching his body against Thomas’s feeling the sudden curl of heat where Thomas hand was now beginning to press down.   
“You don’t call me vanilla, Alexander.” he commanded, suddenly sitting up and shoving Alex down onto the couch. His head hit the arm with a smack, and he laughed as Thomas soon hovered over him, giving his throat a quick bite. 

“Ever.” 

He glared with icy control in his eyes, staring point-blank into Alexander’s. The Virginian was silent, letting the tension slowly grow. They both just breathed quickly, intensity mounting exponentially until neither could handle it, and then Thomas dragged it out a bit more.

Only then did he dive in, open-mouthed, and devour Alexander like he was his last meal.

They smacked together in a whirl of clashing fire and ice, each fighting for the position of domination, and of course, Thomas reigned. Their mouths opened and closed rapidly in heat, tongue lapping and sliding in the other’s mouth. Without another moment’s hesitation, Thomas was tearing Alexander’s clothes away with his teeth. He was ready to teach him another lesson. 

**

Cries and screams echoed through the empty house, Thomas having just finished giving Alexander the belt to make up for the last session being rudely interrupted. He had beautiful welts on his raw ass that Thomas took specific care to torture and trace his nails over as he fucked him from behind, the little one flung over the arm of the couch roughly and pounded. 

Thomas leaned down to bite the scruff of Alexander’s neck and held it animalistically while he rocked and hammered him at an impossible pace. All Alexander could do was moan. 

And that was when the brass knocker of the house was pounded thrice, ringing through the house as if shattering a sacred silence. Someone was there.

Thomas positively JUMPED out of his skin, pulling out of Alexander so fast it made him roar.   
“FUCK!” he screamed, gouging his nails into the couch and clenching his teeth too hard to be healthy. Thomas stumbled backwards, tripping over his heel and barely caught himself on the low table. 

“Shit shit shit shit SHIT.” Thomas sputtered, throwing the pillows on the floor aside frantically,   
“Put this on.” He barked, hurtling Alex’s pants at the limp immigrant on the couch and finding his own, pulling them on and almost toppling over. 

Alex rolled onto his back, sweating and panting, fucked up and hardly able to move without pain, but he had to move; he NEEDED to move, God. Someone was there for them and it was all going to be over. All of it. Terror pumped in his chest. 

“What the FUCK Thomas?!” he scoffed loudly, trying to stand, falling, standing again and stepping into his pants, unsure of what to do. Thomas whirled around, snagging his arm and yanking him so rough it almost tore it off.   
“HEY-”  
“SHUT UP!” Thomas roared, turning around to him, cutting him off completely and just kept pulling him. Alexander stumbled along, unable to feel his legs and angry at Thomas and scared shitless of whoever was at the door. 

Thomas threw him into their room and went to his dresser, flinging it open and shuffling around for something. Alexander was livid.   
“Hey! Hey!” Alex popped right back up from the bed, refusing to sit idle. 

Thomas didn’t respond, so Alexander wasn’t going to take his bullshit; he grabbed his waistband and wrenched him around to face him. Thomas tumbled backwards a bit and whirled to face him.   
“Sit down.” he snarled.   
“NO--hey what are you doing?” Alex cut himself off with wide open arms as Thomas flung an overcoat over himself and breezed right past Alexander as if he didn’t exist. Thomas was wrapped up in his own world as he quickly locked the door attaching to his study, testing the knob to make sure before pacing back.

As he passed Alex, the little one snagged him once again by the arm.   
“Stop!” Alexander jerked his arm but Thomas suddenly rounded on him, canines showing as he snarled and shoved Alexander so hard, he fell back right onto the bed with the momentum. 

“Stay down.” Thomas sneered, “Don’t make a sound.”  
Alexander was dumbstruck, mouth foaming with rage as he snarled right back, “What the FUCK is wrong with you, man?! Where are you going?” 

Thomas didn’t seem to be hearing him, those dark eyes were stormy with some unnamed emotion that scared Alexander. His black brows were furrowed as he clenched his fists, striding towards the bedroom door. The overcoat flowed behind him. 

Alexander understood what he was going to do.   
No.

The immigrant leaped up from the bed, almost falling right to the floor as he tumbled.   
“Don’t do it Thomas...” he barked, watching the man walk out the door, “HEY!” he bolted towards the exit, but Thomas had already slammed it behind him, locking it in one swift movement. 

Alexander only thudded into it violently with his shoulder, not making a dent.   
“YOU PROMISED!” Alexander roared, smacking the backside of the door with his hands, trying not to let tears come out his eyes. If it was the authorities, Thomas was going to make them take him. Oh God, he was going to do it. It wasn’t fair! 

Alexander had sworn they would do it together, Thomas had too. 

“You FUCKING promised!” Alexander choked, hitting the door again in the hurricane of emotions that were tearing him apart. But nobody could hear him anymore. Nobody could hear him and he was suffocating. 

He yelled a frustrated, sound of rage before kicking the wall, gasping for breath as the pain shot up his shin. This couldn’t be happening. Thomas said this wouldn’t happen. 

Alexander ran his hands through his hair over and over again, trying to breathe. He couldn’t breathe. The immigrant sat on the edge of the bed burying his face in his hands, teeth clenched in enraged pain. How could Thomas do this…? 

**

Thomas tied the overcoat firmly around him so that it covered his shirtlessness and marched to the door, mouth screwed up in agony as he did so. He rubbed a rough palm over his eyes as if to kill the tears that were trying to brew there. 

He had said they would do this together. And he had broken that promise because it was not one he could keep. Even in that quiet moment in bed, he knew he would never be able to keep it. Never. 

They both knew there was no post on Sundays…They both knew. Hearing Alexander pound on that door had shattered his iron heart like it was the most pathetic, weakest glass ever made.   
“I’m sorry, Alexander…” he whispered to himself, squeezing his eyes shut as he took a deep breath, hand on the cold door handle… and pulled. This was it.

And nobody surged in to take him.  
Nobody moved.

Thomas’s heart was still thudding in his chest… maybe the world had just stopped. 

“Secretary Jefferson, sir.”   
A small, unrecognized voice squeaked. Thomas slowly, reluctantly, looked out onto his doorstep. A boy of perhaps seventeen, well dressed, was standing there proud and tall. Thomas’s heart was still trying to escape the prison of his ribs when he found the breath to speak.

“Yes?” he sputtered, still trying to stand up without holding the door. The young lad coughed, stepping forth and handing Thomas a letter adorned with the Presidential seal. He looked at it without taking it, speechless, not comprehending. 

“Personally from his excellency the President.” The boy spoke as if he knew everything in the world. For a few moments, Thomas just stared. It was like his body was on pause whilst his mind completely malfunctioned and gave up. 

“Secretary Jefferson…?”   
“Thank you.” he strained out, quickly snatching the letter and turning around to close the door, completely forgetting to tip the lad. He felt like the world was skipping and lurching like an old carriage on a country road. Was this… exactly what they had been waiting for? 

Lips numb, fingers numb, everything absolutely numb, Thomas’s shaky hands slowly tore open the letter, fearing every piece of whatever was inside. He let the envelope fall mindlessly to the ground as he slipped the letter out, unfolding it as he would a dangerous, ancient curse. 

And with all of the universe screaming at him not to, he began to read the first lines of the letter. His jaw dropped. 

And so did the letter to the floor.


	45. One Last Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! Next chapter soon, loves! Have a beautiful day! 💗

Alexander was a panicking, feral mess. He had torn open the bottom drawer of the dresser by force, kicking it open even though it was locked, and strewn its contents everywhere , finding an expensive Bohemian flintlock with a golden lock-plate and cock. He picked it up, cold and heavy in his hand and scoured the rest of the drawer's contents, throwing anything that was in the way, stripping and tearing it to shreds until he found the ammunition.

He hastily loaded the cock with the flint, and wrapped the ball in the patch, ramming it down the barrel with an unprescribed amount of powder and going far too harshly with the ramrod. He didn't care. 

The moment he was finished, he jumped back away from the dresser, holding the gun at a ready, cocked position and scurried to the other side of the bed alcove furthest from the door. His heart was rapidly pounding; his breath was coming in sharp, painful gasps through his teeth. All he could see behind his violently squeezed-shut eyelids was Thomas, Thomas slamming the door in his face, Thomas answering the knock and being dragged away by the neck. Jesus Christ. 

The weight of the gun in his hand was bringing back horrible memories that flashed like lightning in his storming mind. Bloodied men lying in heaps, the screams from the hospital where amputations must be done. The war was coming back and Thomas wasn't there to help him through it. Thomas had left him locked in that room, trapped with his own panicking mind and one heavy gun. 

Alex licked his lips and tried to control his breathing, he strained for any sound inside the house. 

And then there were footsteps, heavy boots clunking across the floor from the entrance hall; he could feel the faint vibrations on his own.  
Alexander's breath picked up, more violent than ever, the shaking of his body was everywhere but that coldly steady hand. The fear built up in his chest in tandem with the noise of the footfalls.

Slowly, carefully, he raised his unwavering hand to point at the door, the knowledge of wha he was about to do crushing down on him with the weight of the world. The clunking was ten feet away. Five. Three. His heart pounded in unison with it. 

He quietly clicked back the cock. The person was right outside the door. His shaking finger found the cold trigger and stilled as soon as it found its all too familiar place, ready for his impeccable shot. Time slowed down; all that could be heart was the hammering of his heart and his slow, shaky breathing. Alexander watched the knob turn, and then the door was flung open with a gust of wind. 

In one surging motion, Alexander lunged for the door, keeping his gun steady and ready to ram it under the chin of the man that had dragged Thomas away.   
With a strangled battle cry, Alexander thudded into someone and shoved the gun up under their head. Still snarling between gritted teeth as the person yelped in surprise. 

Finger just about to place pressure on the trigger, he looked up into the wretched man's eyes. And his heart took a violent lurch when Thomas's dark irises stared back at him from behind the barrel of the flintlock. Before he could lower his weapon, the Virginian whirled on him, twisting his wrists expertly and disarming him. The pretty gun went skidding across the floor and landing in some corner with a clang.

Alexander was left to stand, dumbstruck in front of his wildly disbelieving partner.   
The deafening silence rang in the room. 

Thomas gaped at him, looking from Alexander's empty hands to his eyes and then back.   
“D-” he tried to begin, breath heaving, “Did you just try to shoot me?!” His voice slowly raised to a shout as he realized what the fuck had just happened. Alexander blinked, trying to comprehend what he was seeing. Thomas was fine! Thomas was back! Thomas was... back...   
His face darkened. 

“You?” Alexander spat lowly, beginning to seethe, “YOU?!” Thomas's brows furrowed as he watched Alexander positively FUME.   
“I wasn't trying to shoot you, BASTARD, I was trying to shoot the-the-” he gestured desperately to the door, too angry to form the word right away, “PEOPLE that were going to let your neck hang out!” He spat.

Looking at the man towering above him, Alexander suddenly realized the true enormousness of what Thomas had done to him. He had gone back on his promise and ignored everything he'd said.The immigrant's fists clenched. 

“Nobody was there but the post boy, Alexander. Listen, there was a letter-”  
“I don't give a DAMN about any fucking letter, Thomas.” Alexander cut him off, not near finished with what he had to say to the Virginian, “I don't give a fucking damn.”   
Thomas was struck at the harsh disrespect. 

“Alexander Hamilton... watch your mouth.” he curled his lip at Alex and spat.   
“Watch my mouth? Watch my MOUTH?!” Alexander snarled incredulously, “You just locked me in our room to answer to people trying to kill us, and I almost blew your brains out all over the parlor and you're telling me to WATCH,” He laughed in utter, disgusted disbelief, “My MOUTH?” 

Thomas stepped further into the room, and slammed the door behind him, so loud they could both feel the air vibrate.  
“ALEXANDER.” He boomed, bearing over the immigrant that absolutely refused to back away. He glowered down at him in cold menace, his pitch-black eyes cutting into Alex's. 

“Don't fucking 'Alexander' me like you didn't do shit, Thomas.” Alex barked, lambasting him with ferocity and staring right back into those warning-eyes without giving a damn.   
“Tell me, were you planning on pulling this bullshit this whole time?” Alexander laughed in his face.   
“How... DARE you assume-”

“So when you said that we would do this TO-GETH-ER you were just fucking with me?” He scoffed, shaking his head slowly, “Yeah. Nice one, Thomas. Real nice.” He spat like Thomas was vermin, about to turn away in contempt. 

“I NEVER said that I would let us both die for no reason. Never.” Thomas roared back, face close to Alexander's, trying to intimidate him, and forcing him to turn back.   
“Fucking liar.”   
Thomas gaped.

“ExCUSE me?”   
Alexander stepped up so that he was basically pinning Thomas to the door. He cocked his head.  
“I said FUCKING LIAR.” He shoved him with both hands, ramming him into the wood that reverberated at the impact. 

Thomas regained his footing in a split second, unleashing a furious snarl before rounding on Alexander pushing him in the same way, but much harder. The immigrant 'oof'-ed and stumbled backwards, catching himself on the wall of the bed alcove before he could fall over. 

“DON'T touch me.” Thomas roared at him, jabbing a harsh finger in his direction, “You self-centered little bitch. I'm trying to SAVE your life, you fuckwit!”   
Alexander breathed heavily, slumped against the wall, eyes still simmering with a crackling flame, “I don't want you to save my life, dumb-fuck.” He panted, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, “I don't want your protection.” 

“Then what do you want, Alexander? What?” Thomas raised his arms and dropped them to his side in exasperation, “You don't want to die? You don't want to live? You don’t want me to help? What the fuck do you want me to do?” Thomas shouted.  
Alexander regained strength and stepped forward to him in one motion, pointing right in his face with utter lack of respect. 

“I want you to let me do this WITH you, goddamnit!” He flung his arms to his sides yelling at the top of his lungs.   
“You're a fucking moron, Thomas. You lock me in our bedroom like a maniac and you're yelling at ME? Do you even realize what you sound like right now?” He sneered in disbelief,  
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” 

Before he could finish, Thomas had lunged at him, growling and spitting as the two tumbled to the other wall, grappling at each other's clothing. They scrambled and snarled like animals as they fought, spewing curses and obscenities, tearing each other apart as a hurricane would a rotting little cabin. The lovers’ fight seemed to go on forever, the two forces of fire and ice clashing with booming ferocity. 

Alexander landed a punch square on Thomas's cheekbone with a smack, already giving him the beginning of a black eye. The Virginian saw sparks and heard a ringing sound.   
Thomas stumbled back, blinking and panting. He didn't want to hurt Alexander, but it didn't look like he had much of a choice. His boyfriend was going to hurt both of them; he was out of control. He was MAD. 

“You're going to hurt yourself, Alexander.” he panted, blue bruise already spreading under his skin “Back down-” Alexander had let loose a snarl of rage and came at him again. He had a clear shot to Thomas's face and there was nothing Thomas could do. He'd have to disarm him. 

With a pang in his chest, Thomas squeezed his eyes shut heartbreakingly, and struck Alexander in the face, sending his head snapping backwards with a spray of blood as he caught him in the mouth with his knuckles. Not waiting another moment, the larger Virginian rammed him into the wall, the momentum knocking the wind out of both of them and making their teeth rattle.   
Thomas pinned him expertly, one knee against the wall between Alexander’s, one forearm across his chest and clawing the fabric at his shoulder. The other hand was steady on the immigrant’s throat, holding him still with his eyes facing up, simmering with rage. Thomas pressed his body to Alexander’s jerking, writhing one to hold him still.

Both lovers were panting and bruised messes, sweaty and beat up.   
Alexander jerked again, grunting and trying to pull free.   
“Alexander, STOP this.” Thomas growled closely between gritted teeth, putting all his weight into holding Alexander in place, “You’re going to hurt yourself.” 

“Did a good job yourself, buddy.” Alexander spat the last word, sending a small spray of blood from his mouth. His lip was broken and bleeding from the hit that Thomas’s had resented giving him. 

Thomas curled his lip, showing his canines.   
“You know I don’t want to do that, Alexander. I don’t fucking want to do that. Don’t try to play the victim here, asshole.” Thomas scolded, pointing out that Alex had started the fight.  
“Play?” Alexander laughed, spitting a bloody wad of saliva onto the floor. He panted and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.   
“You betrayed me, you filthy fucker.”   
Thomas sneered at the blatant lack of love in his voice. And in that moment, said something he would immediately regret. 

“Yeah, and you would know all about betrayal, wouldn’t you, Alexander?” he snarled, looking point-blank into those light brown eyes. In an awestruck moment of silence, he saw them widen with shock, “Seems to be your specialty, huh?” 

Alex’s mouth parted, blood dripping down his chin, but the worse sight was the way his face just… gaped. The way his eyes immediately welled up with tears. 

Thomas just watched him, unable to stop his flow now that he had started and hating himself for everything he was saying. Hated the look in Alexander’s eyes. He never wanted his lover to look at him like this…never. But it was too late. 

“Well at least I betrayed you to save your ass, not my own.” Thomas screwed up his lips, eyes scanning Alexander up and down like he was vermin, and returning to his glistening eyes, “But that’s the part you’d know nothing about, you selfish bastard.” he spat quietly with just as much ice as before in his simmering hushness. 

Alex could only stare. He was shaking his head the subtlest amount, mouth wide open. The immigrant gaped, speechless, breathless, eyes swelling with tears. Thomas’s heart broke.   
Alex’s little chest fluttered with breath as he swallowed, tongue tanging with the taste of blood. 

“You don’t mean that.” His voice wavered in a way Thomas had never heard as the first tear spilled over his overflowing eye and splattered to the floor.   
“Thomas.” his voice cracked, “You don’t fucking mean that.” 

“Oh, yeah, Alexander? Well, maybe I do.” he scowled and nodded, whole heart screaming: NO. Alex cringed at the words, another fat tear rolling out.   
“Maybe I’m sick of your shit.” he spat, “Maybe I don’t have a goddamn clue why you’re MAD at me for trying to save your neck.”  
“Because I LOVE you Goddammit!” Alexander screamed, catching Thomas off guard so that he flinched in his grip on the immigrant. 

Alexander choked a sob and shoved Thomas again, pushing both of them further into the room, but Alexander was melting. He was positively melting, falling to pieces, a wreck. He balled his hands into weak fists and started to thud on Thomas’s chest, hits feeble and harmless as he tried to pound him. But he was already sobbing. 

Thomas just stood there, utterly shocked with him. And he just took it. Just stood there coldly and fucking took it. Let Alexander have a go at him, let him try to tear him apart. It didn’t matter anymore as he realized that he… deserved it. How could he say that to him? 

When Alex was too tired to go on, he heaved one exhausted sob and COLLAPSED onto Thomas. The larger caught him just in time, holding him up as Alexander wrapped his arms around him and buried his face roughly into his overcoat. He smeared blood and tears and sweat all over Thomas, little body trembling. 

Thomas could physically feel his heart tear in two.   
“Alexander…”   
“Shut up, Thomas. Just shut up.” Alex snapped, through with him, finished and exasperated and tired. He was so done, so sick of fighting. But he couldn’t bring himself to let go of his partner. And vice versa. 

Thomas wrapped him in closer, squeezing him, grappling at the fabric like a lifeline.   
“Shh… Shh baby, I’m so sorry.” He whispered, slowly, guiding Alexander to the edge of their bed, “I’m… SO sorry.” he swallowed a lump in his throat and held the trembling little man, his whole body racking with sobs. 

“You could have died, Thomas.” Alexander choked, voice cracking and beginning again, “You could have DIED and you don’t understand what I went through in here. In this damned room.” He sputtered, shaking his head against Thomas’s chest as Thomas rocked him gently. He sat them both down on the bed without Alex even acknowledging it. 

“I know, Alexander-”  
“No. You don’t.” He choked right back, raising his head up to challenge. His eyes were broken and glistening red with tears. His face was wet with saltwater and blood, a wreck. He wiped his nose and mouth, still trying to talk.   
“No you don’t. You don’t understand, you LEFT ME IN HERE.” Alexander emphasized, tears streaming at an uncontrollable pace. He couldn’t stop his flow of words now just as well as he couldn’t stop his tears. 

“I didn’t know if-if,” Alex gestured, lips sputtering and searching for words. There were no words that could truly express it, “If I’d never see you again.” He finally found it, tearing Thomas even more. The Virginian only pressed him in tighter, shaking his head and warding off any tears. 

“You don’t get it, you don’t fucking get it in your thick, stupid head.” Alex tried to snarl but it came out so weak. He turned to Thomas, looking deep into his concerned eyes for this essential point.   
“You’re NOT helping by trading your life for mine. Okay?” Alex sputtered and choked, trying to stay composed, “You’re NOT. I…” He swallowed, “CAN’T bear anything without you, so if you love me in the goddamn slightest you’ll let me do this with you.” Alex’s eyes burned into Thomas’s, “TOGETHER.” he laced their fingers, looking down and then finding his eyes once more, tears spilling one after the other. 

“Please, Thomas, you have to do this for me. I know I’m a double-crossing sack of shit. I know.” he nodded, “But if you want to save me, you let me come with you. Death or life, okay?” 

Thomas didn’t look at him, stormy gaze, focused on the floor. Alex squeezed his hand, trying to force his eyes, “Okay? Thomas really just say it, please.” 

“You're not a double-crossing sack of shit. You’re not, I never meant to say that... God…” Thomas shook his head in self resentment, burying his face in Alex’s hair, pulling him close,  
“I’m so sorry, honey. I love you. It was fucking bullshit, I was being such a goddamn moron.” he grumbled, kissing Alex over and over. 

“I don’t care what you said, jackass, I need you to tell me you won’t lock me up and try to protect me again.” Alexander cut him off sharply, desperately needing an answer.   
“You need to tell me that you won’t try to be a hero and do this on your own. We got into this together, so we’re coming out of it together, you can’t just hide me away because you’re scared. We’re both scared, goddamnit.” He spoke bluntly, looking up into Thomas’s eyes. 

“But that doesn’t mean you can literally shut me out.” He was serious. Dead serious, and all Thomas could do was look down into his mess of a face, tear streaked and blood-smeared. And know that he had no choice but to make this promise to Alexander. He had no choice. 

“Okay.” Thomas whispered. He released a breath he didn’t even know he was holding and nodded, his whole body breaking down.   
“Okay.” he repeated, squeezing Alexander’s hand, who squeezed back. 

And then they were both exhausted.

Thomas slowly got up to fetch a wet towel from the bathroom, returning to silently dab at Alexander’s lip with a gentleness unknown to any other lovers in this world. Alex’s big brown eyes gazed up at him the whole time, tired and full of bittersweet passion. Thomas was here. He was okay. He was in front of him, and he was alive. 

Thomas cleaned up all of Alex’s face, slowly lowering his towel to the floor and retaining Alex’s eyes. There was something peculiar in them, and Thomas twitched his eyebrows in a way that gently demanded an answer.   
“I need to kiss you.” the immigrant spoke with startling sincerity, surprising Thomas. 

He laughed lightly, “Your lip will bleed again. You’re gonna have to wait, alright.”   
But Alexander was already slowly leaning back into the pillows, letting his body relax, and guiding Thomas with him. Thomas followed him down naturally, drawn to him by a gravitational force until he was on top of him, gazing down into those eyes that had whole worlds in them. Alex’s hands were resting lightly on his shoulders, his whole face begging. 

The two were silent, already breathing a little breathlessly like it was their first time for the hundredth time.  
Alex stared up, the bruise spreading like an opening flower under Thomas’s eye. 

“Please.” was all he could manage, breath intermingling. And it was enough.   
Thomas’s slowly, carefully, at a… crawling pace, unbuttoned Alexander’s shirt, never letting their eyes come apart. He spread it so that Alex’s chest and belly were bare, gazing at his skin for a few moments before lightly tracing over it with his fingertips. He just felt him, warm, breathing flutteringly, and lowered his face close to his skin, hot breath tickling it. 

He placed a deep, slow kiss to the hollow between Alex’s collarbones, feeling the little one’s body sigh with the feeling. He relaxed back into the pillows. Working at a crawling pace, Thomas pressed kisses up each collarbone, working all over his shoulders before trailing the hot kisses down his chest. 

Alex just laid and let it happen, feeling himself beginning to melt into bliss. He trusted Thomas, trusted his crawling pace and how he completely owned him. He and Thomas were one entity in those moments. 

The Virginian had finished peppering all over Alexander’s belly, and was nibbling at his adored hip bones, when his fingers carefully undid the string at Alex’s pants, tugging them gently down his legs and discarding them at the foot of the bed. 

“Thomas…”   
“Shh…” The larger hushed him up, pressing a kiss just above his cock. Alexander squirmed, and whimpered.  
“No. Thomas. Can you please-”  
“I will, baby. Just wait for me.” He breathed, warm breath so tantalizingly close to his cock, “Just wait…” 

Alexander swallowed and nodded, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back once again. He was feeling something so much deeper than lust right now, something… MORE. He wanted Thomas inside him, but not just to please them both, but to be close to him. To feel him, all of him. And he didn’t know if he could wait. 

Alexander whimpered as Thomas nudged in to kiss his sensitive pulse point, pushing two fingers carefully inside him. His legs jerked at the surprising feeling.   
“Shh… I’ve got you, honey, just relax...” He breathed against the wet patch of skin he had made, expertly opening up Alexander in a way very contrary to the roughness in which he would if they were fighting. Thomas was still completely in dominant control, but in a way that was so tender, so safe. 

He trailed his searing tongue down Alexander’s belly, swirling at the base of his cock in a feather-light circle.   
Alexander’s hips began to tremble, shaking as he whimpered pitifully.   
“Please.”   
“Shh… Alexander, you’ve got to stay still so I can make you feel better, alright?” He spoke sternly but sympathetically, “This isn’t gonna work if you don’t.” Alexander, once again, nodded and bit his lip. 

“Okay. Okay, I’m sorry.”  
“It’s okay baby. Just breathe.” Thomas instructed, pushing in another finger so that Alexander had to follow his orders, intaking a shaky breath and letting it out with just the same trembling tone. Alex needed this, Thomas thought. He was hurting and betrayed and scared and he needed this, the closeness, the love.   
Only then could he tell him of the letter. 

Thomas glided his tongue expertly around the underside of Alex’s cock, trailing up all the way to the head at just the right slowness. Alexander continued with his deep breaths as Thomas reached the head, placed his mouth over the tip and came down at the same pace he had come up, taking Alexander in with an impossible gracefulness and pulling his entire length into his throat. 

He held him there, unmoving as Alex’s cock grew fully hard. Just waited for him, and laid in stillness. Alex was trying so hard to be good, and he was so far succeeding. He wanted to tremble so badly, but he knew that Thomas had him; he would do what was best. 

Alexander bunched up the sheets in his hands and kept breathing. Thomas hummed around his cock as he pulled up off it, making Alexander choke a lusty sob and curl his toes, needing Thomas inside him so badly that he ACHED with emptiness. 

“You’re doing so well, Alexander.” He breathed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand from any excess spit. He found Alex’s gaze.  
“Are you ready now, sweetheart? I’m not doing this if you just want to cuddle.” 

“I’m ready, I’m ready, please, Thomas.” he sputtered, opening his mouth wide and keeping it there, ready to take Thomas’s cock and give it the proper lubrication. Thomas just scooted up and placed a light kiss on Alex’s stuck-out tongue. 

“I can’t do that now, you gotta give your lip some time, mon jouet.” He shook his head and spat in his hand, stroking his cock with it.   
“Just lay back, I’m going to take care of you, alright?” He grumbled, shuffling down on top of his partner and wiggling his arms so that Alexander’s armpits were in the crook of his elbow, holding him close and tight. 

He sighed, placing a kiss on Alex’s forehead that he didn’t come up from as he slowly pushed the tip in, careful not to overwhelm his partner.   
He whimpered, reaching up to hold onto Thomas’s shoulders. As Thomas pushed deeper and bottomed out, Alexander’s nails were pricking his skin, leaving little crescent indents. 

“I’m sorry I hit you.” He sobbed, chest racking as Thomas began a steady, rocking motion inside of him, “I’m sorry, I was such a dick.” 

“Honey you need to be quiet, okay. I was wrong and I need you to relax now, keep breathing--yep, just like that.” 

Thomas rocked Alexander to peaceful bliss, letting the immigrant forget his own body as Thomas took the utmost care of it. All Alexander had to focus on now was his own mind, let it drift, let it be filled with the safety and security of Thomas. He didn’t have to think of the war or that fucking gun or the violence. It was behind him, and he could let the stress release into the wind, drifting out the slightly cracked window, fluttering the curtains, and out into the autumn afternoon. 

The war was over. It had been. It was okay. 

Minutes passed and Thomas brought him to the height of his pleasure and allowed him to cum with one word, feeling Alexander’s body convulse against his as he cummed between them. In a rare instant, Thomas held Alexander as tight as he could and squeezed his eyes shut, letting his own release carry him away just as Alexander always did. Of course, Thomas had none of the same noisy tendencies, but he let himself fall into this one. Hard.

“Fuck…” He gritted his teeth and let his head fall close to Alexander’s burying his face in Alex’s hair.   
“I love you…. I love you… I love you…” he chanted under his breath, shivering on top of Alexander who cried beneath him, “Alexander…” 

He came inside of Alex, just staying there for a few blissful moments as the little one’s orgasm passed over him in waves, waves that were held in check by Thomas’s heavy body safely on top of him. And when they were both finally coming down, they were completely spent. 

Careful of his lip, Thomas lapped into Alexander’s wide-open mouth, a powerful need to taste him was irresistible. The two moaned softly, almost inaudibly as they kissed, wet tongues sliding over one another for what felt like hours. 

Thomas finally broke from him, grabbing the towel from the floor to clean the both of them up, conscious of Alexander’s oversensitivity when he wiped him down. Alex was already pulling the covers up over himself, adjusting the pillows and snuggling down. 

“Tired?” Thomas grumbled, shuffling in next to him with a sigh and snaking an arm around his waist, facing him and shifting Alex’s leg over his hip. Alexander hummed.   
“Just a power nap.” he leaned in for a deep kiss and then pulled away, “I hope you enjoyed your vanilla.”   
“Oh my God.” Thomas growled, rolling his eyes as Alexander snickered,

“That was NOT vanilla. Just because there’s passion doesn’t mean it’s vanilla.”   
“I know. I still had to ask permission to cum.”  
“As should you always.”   
“Yeah, whatever.”   
“Come here.” 

And then they were kissing again, long and slow, Alexander trying to press harder into Thomas’s mouth, but the Virginian only letting him go so hard with that broken lip of his, so annoyingly caring. 

Until Thomas remembered. 

He pulled away and Alex looked up, brown eyes tired but puzzled.   
“You good?” He asked, stroking the back of Thomas’s neck with the fingers he had laced there. Thomas kissed his forehead. 

“What I said earlier, Alexander. It’s something that you need to hear if we’re doing all of this together.”  
“Then by all means.” Alex nodded, coaxing him towards it. Thomas licked his lips, trying to find where to start. It seemed like an impossible task. 

“It was a letter. From Washington.”   
Alex’s brows furrowed.   
“Cabinet affairs?” He questioned, voice toned with befuddlement, “Our letters of task were received two days ago for tomorrow’s debate-”   
“No. Not Cabinet affairs, Alexander.” He cut him off, searching for words, “Personal. He was responding to our letter, Alex.” 

The immigrant gaped, speechless. 

“Does that mean that-”  
“That maybe we’re safe. Yeah.” Thomas reasoned cooly, “But it gets more fucked up really damn quickly.”   
Alexander listened carefully. 

“The letter. It was a request for summons. We’re supposed to be there at his house tonight at seven. No dinner invite, no specificities. Nothing.” Alexander grew steadily more confused. 

“NO details?” Alexander repeated, wheels turning.  
“Not shit. Just that he’d read our letter and needed to see us.” But Alexander had already sat up in bed, scowling down at the sheets in deep thought. He shook his head in denial. 

Thomas was beginning to grow uneasy.   
“What?” He asked, sitting up too. Alexander didn’t move, just stared down at the sheets in concentration.   
“What, Alexander?” He asked again, firmer. The immigrant turned his face to him. 

“That’s not right.” He shook his head, “That’s not Washington.”   
Thomas went silent and stared at him. What? He opened his mouth to respond to Alex’s weird behavior, but was cut off. 

“Bring me the letter.”   
“Hey, wise guy, tell me what’s going on and maybe I’ll consider it.” Thomas’s voice was now edged with a snarl at the disrespect. 

“Just bring me the letter, asshole, this is actually important.”   
“Alexander…” His voice darkened with warning.  
“Just do it and I’ll shut up, man. Please.” Alex cut him off. Thomas scanned those light brown eyes, sensing the urgency in them, seeing the gears grinding just behind them. And he decided to comply. 

He pulled the covers aside and stepped out of bed, padding to the door.   
“I don’t know why you need it, bitch.” he grumbled disgruntledly.   
“You will, chop chop.”   
“Stay put.” he clipped, walking out of the room. 

He returned in a minute with the letter, crawling back into bed and handing it over to Alexander, who snatched it like it was a hundred dollar bill.   
“Jesus, don’t spend it all at once.” Thomas sneered, pulling the covers back over his nakedness. Alexander carelessly threw the envelope aside. 

“Gonna pick that up?”   
“No.”  
“Yes you will.”

But Alexander’s jaw dropped as soon as he laid eyes on the writing within. His brown eyes flicked back and forth across the page. Thomas monitored his every move. 

“What is it?”   
Alex seemed not to hear him, blinking and staring at it again.   
“Holy fucking shit….” he breathed. Thomas was growing pretty damn irked. 

“Alexander…” his voice was simmering with a dark warning, “What.” he snarled. Alex slowly turned his head to Thomas gaping. He shook it. 

“Thomas, I have no fucking idea what this means.” he spoke seriously, setting the letter down in his lap. He breathed. 

“But this letter isn’t from George Washington.” 

Thomas stared at him for a silent moment. And then let out a scoff.   
“I’m sorry, what the fuck?” he laughed, gesturing to it, “It literally has the presidential seal and his signature, who do you think it’s from? Queen Elizabeth?” 

“No, you twatwad, I get that.” He shot right back, scanning the letter once again to be sure.   
“I’ve worked with Washington my whole life. Wartime and after. I edit his letters; I wrote some of them. I know what George Washington’s handwriting looks like.” 

Thomas’s stomach lurched inexplicably at this uneasy notion. Alex’s dark eyes slowly found his lips parted in confused uneasiness. 

“And this is James Madison.” 

**

“So you sent it. You walked right out to the mailbox and sent it yourself.”   
“No.”   
“No. What do you mean, ‘no’.” He quoted, coolheaded despite the biting, stern tone of his voice and this conversation.   
“I summoned your post boy and had him take it personally.”   
“In the name of Christ…”   
“George, look at me.” James clipped equally as sternly. George, one hand on his desk, finally turned back around to face James, looking as if he were trying to hold back an eloquently prepared argument on why this was a terrible decision. 

“Yes, darling.” he spoke cooly, almost too cooly. He immediately regretted it when James’s eyes softened.   
“George. I can see why you’re angry, I do.”   
“Do you, now?”  
“Yes.” He nodded, “I do.” 

The two stared at each other silently.   
George hated having disagreements with James, mostly because the latter always won. George was the grandiosity of the relationship, the powerful white horses pulling the French carriage, but James was the driver. Reliant on the carriage for all of his means, but driving it nonetheless. 

It didn’t matter that James was sick, weak. George tended to him with the utmost love, and James always returned with a sense of reason, no matter how it sounded to George’s ears. 

And now the President shook his head, letting his gaze fall to the ground in frustration. He heaved an exasperated sigh of defeat.   
“Well then. I assume if it has been sent there is nothing that can be done.” 

“I hardly see speaking to Alexander and Thomas in the way in which I suggested to be ‘nothing’.”   
George curled his knuckles and pressed them against the table now, trying not to lose his always-calm composure. 

“We can NOT tell Secretaries Hamilton and Jefferson of our relationship. Don’t you see the cost? James, This isn’t some frivolous wive’s gossip that we can toss around.”   
“And you think THEY did not see the cost?” James cut back before George could even finish, taking him aback. 

George looked into those fiery blue eyes as James carefully sat himself down, trying not to subordinate himself in doing so. He was growing exhausted and weak from standing. 

“You think that they did not know the cost of bringing their love to us? You think they were--how did you say?--tossing it around like wive’s gossip.”   
George looked down at his boots, pursing his lips. He was beginning to see the point take shape here. 

“No.” he answered simply. But James was not done.   
“No.” James repeated, “Because they brought their love to us in the name of their lives. Their LIVES, George.”   
“I hear you, darling.” 

“And they deserve to know the truth. They deserve to know that they are in the safest hands they could possibly be in-”   
James fought on, despite his voice growing hoarse and a sudden hack of a cough bringing George rushing to his side. But James waved him off, not wanting anything to distract himself, not yet. 

“And-” he hacked a cough and sputtered on, “If anyone on this world knows of this kind of fear, it is us.” he found George’s eyes, his own watering profusely, “Seven years, George. Seven years of hiding. Of being afraid.” he shook his head, heart burning faintly with an old sense of resentment that he had been able to quiet in the years past.   
“I am tired of being afraid for loving, George. I’m so tired.” He breathed, wheezing a bit, “We are the fathers of a nation, yet we can never escape its shackles.” 

George took his hand and nodded too, feeling his eyes well up just a bit.   
“I am twenty five years old, George. And I’ve wanted to marry you since the moment you stepped out of that carriage at Princeton when I was eighteen.”   
Washington smiled softly, squeezing his hand, making sure their rings tapped each other. 

“Before we can finally…” he closed his eyes, letting himself feel the full exhaustion of these seven years, “Finally,” he sighed, “marry, I want to do for my best friend what was never done for us.” 

George’s eyes widened with glistening tears as he listened to the wisdom of his fiancé whom he was deeply in love with. And he finally understood why James had asked Thomas and Alexander to come with a pang in his heart .

James wished that someone had told HIM that they could make it, that they could make it through the fire and fear of presidency without giving up love. He wished that someone had saved him the sleepless nights of reaching over and praying it wasn’t the last time he’d touch that face. The endless hours of worry that stole health and happiness in fear of losing the president that he loved. 

He wanted to give that to Thomas. The PROOF that love could win over everything, anything else. Love could win. 

George nodded.   
“I understand.” he whispered, taking both of James’s small hands in his own. “I understand.” he repeated, placing a deep kiss on his lips, feeling his tired husband-to-be lean into him, exhaustion taking its toll as George held him up against his body and pressed his mouth in deeper. 

“I love you, James.” he struggled not to weep, emotion washing over him in a powerful wave, “I can’t wait another moment. To marry you in that orchard.” He kissed him again, wrapping him in his arms and laughing lightly like a young boy that was not thirty years old.   
“Where we had our first kiss. How fitting.” 

James managed a feeble laugh, smiling against his lovers lips.   
“So patient for seven… long years.” he sighed, George could feel the exhaustion and pure drainedness radiating from him. It had been such a long road. It was unbelievable to think that relief was so very close. 

“We can wait just another month more.” James breathed. George kissed his lover’s hand right on the wedding ring and held it pressed to his lips. 

**

“Dress formal.”   
“Wh-This is formal.”   
“Alexander Hamilton I don’t know how you wandered your way into a WAR TRENCH but you’d better take off that fucking frock before the rats start thinking you stole their home and children.”   
“Washington doesn’t give a-”  
“Now.”   
“You don’t control what I-”  
“NOW.” 

Alexander groaned between clenched teeth and simmered back into the bedroom on Thomas’s command, grumbling. He was straightening his cravat in the mirror when Thomas came up behind him with the hairbrush and unpinned his hair, dragging the brush through the snarls.

“Hey--OW! Thomas!” he tried to turn around and jerk free but Thomas held him in place, pins gripped between his teeth.   
“Stop moving, Alexander, you're going to take someone’s eye out.”   
“Hopefully yours.” he complained, huffing. 

“You’re being a brat. Stop it.” Thomas clipped in a serious tone, so strict that it was just enough to make Alexander stand still.   
“Washington doesn’t give two shits, you know. You’re being ridiculous.” he continued running his mouth now that it was the only thing he could move. Thomas worked out a rough knot and started to pull the hair away from Alex’s face.

“You’re going to the President’s private home, you should look like you didn’t just wake up hungover in a road ditch.”   
“He’s like my dad; do you think a dad cares what you wear?”   
“Mine does.”   
“Well good for fucking him.” Alex snarled, “But your dad isn’t Washington, so why’re you yanking my brains out.” 

“I’m not yanking anything, Alexander. So that statement’s actually correct.”   
“Fuck you. Fuck your dad. Fucking fuck.” Alex finally gave up and let Thomas pin his hair up neatly, long fingers working diligently between the strands. 

Despite their usual banter, there was the same underlying sense of impending darkness beneath it all. As Alex and Thomas tied the back of each others’ waistcoats, it was there. As they checked the time for the hundredth time and finally rose from the dining room table, silently clearing the dishes, it was there. 

And when they strolled down the front walkway of the house, side by side, the Treasurer and the candidate, it was absolutely there, all framed by a dazzling autumn sunset, igniting the fiery tips of turning leaves. Fall was going to be beautiful this year, Thomas thought. All the more close to Christmans.

He breathed in the crisp air and glanced down at Alexander; he felt a shot of almost unbearable pain lace through his chest. There was nothing he wanted more than to share a Christmas with Alexander. Show him the little traditions, how it lasted the entire month of December. Fill his empty house with friends and family and the smell of peppermint and piney Christmas tree scent… 

He had to stop thinking about it, or else he would think about never getting to see it again. And never with Alexander. 

As their feet crunched in the gravel, approaching the front of the loop where the carriage waited, Alexander spoke. He had been gaining the courage for a bit, but Thomas’s mind was elsewhere. 

“Hey Jeffs.”   
“Don’t call me that.”   
Alex ignored him, “Talking about your father got me thinking.”  
Thomas snorted lightly, “A rarity.”   
“Shush, and I was thinking…" He swallowed, "Where is your family? Who even are they?” He questioned, knowing fair well that it was a personal question, but this was his boyfriend. 

Thomas straightened up, raising his chin and linking his arms behind his back. He strolled like a king beside Alexander who’s short legs struggled to keep up. 

“I am one one of seven surviving children-”  
“HOLY shit.” Alex cut him off in shock. Thomas scowled.   
“Do you want me to tell you or not, clotpole.”   
“Keep going but DAMN your parents got busy.” He scoffed lightly to himself and shook his head in disbelief, “Can the world even take that many Jeffersons? I mean I’ve only got one and fucking God help me.”  
Thomas rolled his eyes at the disrespectful behavior but decided to let it go. 

“I’m the oldest son, so naturally the leader of the pack.”   
“Whelp, that explains a whole LOAD of shit.”   
Thomas ignored him.  
“Older sisters are Jane, who’s twenty-two, and Mary who’s your age.”   
“Ahh, finally, a Jefferson old enough for me to date.” Thomas knocked him on the back of the head, “They’re married with babies, you whore.” and continued after some laughter. 

“Betsey’s nineteen now, a tomboy; Lucy’s eighteen and obsessed with anything books; and… Oh God help me.” Thomas dwindled off, but dropped his chin to his chest in what was definitely a helpless smile. Alex caught the contagious expression. 

“What?” he asked with a laugh, poking Thomas in the side.   
Thomas chortled, sniffing a bit to regain his composure, “The twins. We call em double trouble.” 

“That’s the most southern thing I’ve ever heard.” Thomas laughed.   
“It’s true. Randolph and Anna. They’re seventeen and the closest ones to me; Randolph is a hopeless playboy, as I was before I met you.” 

“Oh really.” Alexander cocked an eyebrow, “‘hopeless playboy’. I’m hearing more about this later.”   
Thomas just laughed again and kept going on. 

“Randy’s such a sly little charmer, I’m keeping you away from him if you meet.”   
“Ah… so he’s into…?”  
“Alexander, he’d try to sweet-talk a tree onto his dick if he could.”   
Alex snickered. 

“And Anna’s far too smart to be a slut, she’s Randolph’s partner in crime, femme alter-ego.” He breathed, opening the door for Alexander who stepped into the carriage and clumsily clammered to the other side. 

“She’ll find a way to get you and Randolph alone, so stick close to my side when they’re around. Finders keepers.”   
Alexander laughed, contemplating all of this as the carriage began to roll, driving them away from the house at a trot. Alexander much prefered to ponder Thomas’s life surrounded by and bossing around siblings than to think of what they were driving headlong into. 

Just thinking about Thomas leading around a troop of close-aged Jeffersons was hilarious and heartwarming. He wanted to meet all of them. 

And then… he realized a hole that Thomas had left out.   
“And…” he began after some silence. He turned his head to Thomas, who didn’t look at him immediately, “Your parents?” 

Thomas tensed up. So subtle that only Alexander could ever notice it.   
“My mother is Jane Jefferson from London. She lives with Mary.” 

Thomas still stared icily out the window.   
“... And your father…?” Alexander probed sensitively. Thomas’s voice turned to a monotoned block of stone. Alex knew he had just touched into something very dark. 

“My father died when I was fourteen.” he drawled. Facing Alex for the first time, eyes cold and emotionless. Alexander’s heart lurched.   
“Oh Thomas…” he immediately was pulled by instinct towards him, but Thomas shied away.   
“It’s fine. The man was an asshat, never talked to me once.” 

Alexander felt this strange, icky feeling writing in his stomach. He didn’t know where it came from but he suddenly wanted to punch something. To punch someone. His hands balled up into white-knuckled fist.   
“I’m sorry Thomas. I know what it’s like to have a fucking degenerate excuse of a dad.”   
Thomas scoffed and threw an arm over Alexander’s shoulders, perhaps opening up more now that the subject had changed from him. 

Alexander leaned into his body, scooting closer across the seat.   
“Honey, you know a hell of a lotl better than I do. I can’t complain about shit.” 

Alexander paused for a moment, confused. He looked up at Thomas.   
“What?”

Thomas shifted his hips and coughed.  
“My father was a rich man. A Virginian. I can’t complain about shit.”   
Alexander stared point-blank at him for a few moments, silent. Then he scoffed. 

“Okay, first of all, shut the fuck up.” He sneered, pulling away from Thomas and pointing at him.   
“Excuse me-”  
“This isn’t a contest, Jefferson, just because I grew up in a shithole island as an orphan doesn’t mean it cancels out your pain.”   
Thomas’s dark brows immediately swooped in, baring his teeth. 

“Beg to differ.”   
“So you’re saying that if you’re being crushed under a five hundred pound rock it just doesn’t matter cause I’m under five hundred and ten?” 

Thomas licked his lips and looked down at the floor, realizing the sudden burst of wisdom there.   
“Yeah that’s what I thought.” Alexander laughed, arrogant at his victory and wiggled his way back to Thomas, pressing against him. 

“Look. You’re a fucking cunt, but you’re MY fucking cunt.”   
“I can’t verbally tell you how weird that sounded, Alexander. God.”   
“Shush--and I’m sorry about your screw-up of a father.” He took Thomas’s cravat in hand and pulled his face close to his own, pressing a warm kiss to his lips and then pulling away to gaze into those deep, dark eyes. 

“But I have to say he made one hell of a son.”   
Thomas’s heart melted right there in his chest. He could have wept on the spot at Alex saying something so purely genuine, something he’d needed to hear for a… long time. He sniffed, not letting the emotion show through too much, and instead enveloped Alex’s mouth into another deep kiss. 

“Wish I could say the same about yours.”   
“Fuck off.”   
They mumbled into each other’s mouths and kissed for a few minutes more. When they had finally pulled away from each other, the dark tone had settled back in as the carriage rolled along the wide lanes. The two just gazed out Thomas’s windows, watching the people go by, Alexander’s head resting on his boyfriend’s shoulder. 

A strange feeling came over Alexander. It was almost surreal. 

“What do you think it all means?” Alex whispered, reaching an arm into Thomas’s coat and around his strong waist, clinging to him. Thomas glanced sideways at him with his stormy, churning eyes. 

“What means?” he grumbled, voice rumbling against Alex’s chest. The immigrant gave a sigh.   
“Everything up till this point. This whole shit show.” he tried to convey, and realized it wasn’t coming out right.   
“We’re black and white, Thomas. Day and night, left and right.”   
“Aaaaand we have a poet, folks.”   
“I just feel like everything in my life was actually leading up to this point. You know?” 

Thomas blinked down at him, completely lost.   
“You lost me, kid.”   
Alexander tapped his foot on the floor, looking up to the ceiling as if for advice, then seemed to get it. 

“Our lives are two different things, yeah?”   
“I’d say.”   
“Good.” Alexander swallowed, searching for the next words, “But I feel like they’re not supposed to be. I feel like maybe my whole life, everything that’s happened. My mom dying, my dad leaving, the war, the Reynolds affair, Burr, it all happened for a reason.” 

He wrung his hands out, gears grinding.   
“Like it all happened solely to bring me to you, but on a really confusing route.” 

Once again, Thomas’s heart fluttered in his chest, snatching his breath away without his consent. But Alexander was still staring intently down at his lap, squinting. Thomas knew that he was trying to figure something out in that brilliant mind of his, learning by teaching. And so he let him. 

“And now this is it. It all leads up to Washington and this fucked up letter we got. Like this is the last door, you know, the last step to clear before it all falls into place.” 

Thomas gazed at him in awe, beginning to understand.   
“Like… like…” 

He was restlessly thinking for a few more moments.  
And then Alexander’s body went completely still. He barely appeared to be breathing, perhaps holding his breath 

“You are my legacy.” he whispered, so quietly like it was only for himself to hear. Like the storm had just passed, and now all that was left were the dripping leaves in a silent wood. 

Maybe this was all part of the winding route too. For Alexander to truly realize that he had been working towards this all along, right here. Right now. His destiny had been guiding him by the hand to a legacy far different than he had imagined, and now his destiny and his life were colliding. 

Thomas tightened his grip around his lover, smiling softly as the carriage slowed at the front of a humble, wide-porched house. 

“I think you answered your question, Alexander.” He mumbled, placing a kiss on the top of Alex’s head, the latter still so very quiet. He knew that he had. 

**

When Thomas knocked confidently on the door despite his uneasiness, the boy that had delivered the letter answered. Taken aback Thomas glanced to Alex for a fleeting moment and then back to the boy, coughing and straightening up in his usual elitist arrogance. 

“We have an audience with his excellency, this evening, boy.” Thomas rumbled without any hint of accent, “If you please.” he added a note of passive-aggressive politeness. The boy stuck his chin in the air, blocking the doorway nonetheless. 

“Mr. Washington has given me no news of visitors.” he spoke as if he were trying to seem fifteen years older. Alexander scoffed and stepped into the conversation. 

“Yeah, well he sent us this letter of summons, kid.” Alexander held it up, flashing the presidential seal.   
“And we’re kind of in the Cabinet so I don’t think good old Cherry Tree will mind.” Alex received a light touch from Thomas that was definitely not light in its meaning. 

But then a deep voice resounded from further inside of the house.   
“Peter, do let them in.” It called cooly, muffled by walls, “If I’m not mistaken I hear the blatant disrespect of our beloved Treasurer all the way from here.” 

Peter looked around, face flushing red with humiliated frustration, and stepped inside the house, holding the door open. Alexander passed him with a gleaming smile.   
“Have a good one, Pete.” He winked and made the boy even more crimson than before, glaring at his shoes. 

Thomas mumbled between gritted teeth, “You are despicable.”   
“Politician, Thomas. The word is politician.” 

They clunked into the small entrance hall, stairs curling up to the second floor before them. For a moment, they waited in silence, but they soon heard a chair scooting back somewhere and the thudding of strides. Alexander touched Thomas’s hand behind his back and felt Thomas sigh just a bit. 

Washington appeared from the threshold in front of them. Towering, elegant, radiating sophistication.  
And suddenly it was painfully uncomfortable in the room, like the walls were closing in and stifling them all. To think that Washington was looking upon those two with those icy blue eyes, knowing their darkest secret, the secret that held the key to their life and death. It was terrifying. 

“Gentlemen.” he spoke, voice ringing clearly in their ears. Thomas retained his tall composure, always having difficulty subordinating himself to anyone.   
“Mr. President.” he spoke in exactly the same tone. 

And everyone was silent. It was almost a standoff to see who would make the first move.  
At the top of the staircase a grandfather clock struck seven o clock, it’s ominous tones reverberating through Thomas’s body and making feel as if it was counting down the time he had left. He snubbed out the morbid thought for the sake of maintaining his collectedness. 

Washington coughed slightly, drawing their attention back. Apparently he was going to be the one to speak first.   
“Boys, I received your letter, as you know.” 

They both had their chins raised but stared at their feet as if in shame. Alexander’s cravat suddenly felt far too tight. 

“And I was shocked.” A ripple of fear ran through them both. But the tone in George’s voice was undefined. The President took another step forward and glanced up the stairs as if looking for something up there; the notion quickly disappeared. 

“Shocked at the way it was written.”   
Alex looked up, brows furrowed.   
“Sir?”   
George smiled and placed his hand on the banister, “I know your writing, Alex. Lengthy, passionate.” he turned his eyes to Thomas next, “And yours, Tom. Concise, cool.” Thomas bowed blinked respectfully at him, walls thrown up nevertheless. 

“I know you both wrote that together boys.” He kept his light, knowing smile as the two shifted uncomfortably. George sighed.   
“And I must say it had the desired effect. Especially since you got it to me so punctually. I must ask how you managed that.” he laughed in amusement. 

Alexander coughed lightly, scratching the back of his neck.   
“Uh. Lafayette.” he mumbled, laughing a bit. George chuckled. 

“Ah the Marquis.” he tutted, knowing the man very well like a son, “Always with a lion’s heart, flamboyant and courageous.”   
“Yeah.” Alex shuffled once more. 

“So.” George spoke businesslike, returning back to the important matters, “You probably know why I’ve summoned you here today. Because of that... confession. And Burr’s unlawfulness.” 

“Yeah, but you didn’t summon us.” Alexander spoke boldly, comfortable in this man’s presence. Yet when the blue eyes were turned on him, he backed down a bit, “Didn’t you.” He breathed quietly. 

George looked once again up the stairs like he had lost something. Alexander noticed it this time.   
“Alexander, sometimes your wit is insufferably inconvenient.” He laughed. Alex just suppressed the smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.   
“Thank you." he sniffed, "But I’m right. You didn’t write that letter.” 

George shook his head in mild disbelief, turning his gaze to Thomas.   
“I don’t know how you do it.” 

Thomas was surprised by the playful, familiar address from the usually rigidly cool President. Maybe this was a side he’d never known, and he himself remained collected and in power.   
“Neither do I, your excellency.” He gave the playful response in an all-business manner. 

“Well then, I see no use in hiding something that Alexander has already discovered.” he sighed in defeat, turning his head up towards the stairs.   
“James, you may come down.” He called up the staircase.

Thomas and Alexander looked at each other. Huh? Nothing was connecting, two and two were not coming together. James in Washington’s house?   
Thomas wanted to ask what this was, but Alex was already on it, jumping right to the point. 

“Wait, Madison is here?” Alexander scoffed looking to Thomas and then back to Washington, “Why?... What?” Alex looked around the group one more time in utter disorientation.   
“Hello?” 

“Hello.” A voice responded from above. All eyes shot up to the top of the staircase.

And there he was, James Madison in the flesh, holding fast to the banister as he descended slowly. His calm eyes cast over the gathering in the entrance hall. He wasn’t dressed formally, just in his everyday clothes and house shoes that padded on the carpeted stairs. 

A look passed between the President and Madison, George asking if James needed assistance with his eyes and the latter declining, all in one glance. Alex tried to pick all of this up at once, trying to comprehend it all. 

James finally reached the bottom of the stairs and brushed himself off with a sigh. He looked around the group. 

“Secretary Hamilton.” He nodded, “Tom.”   
“James.” 

Alexander wasn't having it.   
“Alright. This has been great and everything but can someone please explain what the hell is going on.” Alexander held his hands up from his side, finally having enough with elusive, vague, riddle-talking. This was playing out like some cheesy Shakespeare shit on steroids and he’d had his fill. 

“Seriously, what is this?” Alexander concluded, looking around the circle and letting his arms drop.   
“George, you got the letter, right?”   
The President nodded cooly. 

“Yes, Alex, I got the letter.”   
“And then…” Alexander prompted in a way that was JUST enough not to be disrespectfully patronizing.   
“Burr arrived.” Washington picked up, beginning to narrate. Jamed had moved to his side, a little closer than was common, but Alexander didn’t pick up on it right away. 

“I am a very decisive man, gentlemen. That you know.” he explained, “But I found myself in a position of uncertainty, which seems preposterous to think of now that it is over and done.” 

“Now that… what is over and done?” Thomas requested the information, a hint of cool defensiveness in his voice. 

They didn’t need to wait for an answer, James was ready to deliver.   
“Now that Burr will never bother the two of you again.” he rasped, eyes turning to him. The smaller man looked up to George, who nodded. 

“Tom, Hamilton. I’m not going to waste my time being sentimental about this. Nobody wants to hear that right now.” he clipped with the dry, exhausted honesty that he always replied with. He met each of their eyes. 

“You’re safe. And you’re going to be safe.” He sighed, and then added in a darker tone, “From Burr, that is. George and I can’t guarantee you more.” 

Relief flooded Thomas. A bliss so powerful it was overwhelming. They were going to keep their secret. Alexander was safe, they were both safe! But Alex wasn’t satisfied.   
“Madison, where do you come into this?” 

Madison laughed dryly, “The question is where do I NOT come into this.”   
At Alexander’s befuddled expression, Washington stepped in to cover for James.  
“James is the one who showed me reason on that night. He knocked some sense into me because I know what I would want if the same thing had happened to us.” 

“Huh?” Alexander grunted, scowling in puzzlement. And that was when Thomas nudged him slightly, making him look up at his partner. Thomas was staring, wide-eyed at something before them, gesturing for Alexander to look too. 

His jaw dropped. 

Between the President and the Congressman, there were two intertwined hands, gripping tightly to one another. A sparkling glint of rings could be seen enveloped between them. No way. No fucking way. This had to be a trick on some grand scale. 

James laughed at his reaction.   
“Someone pinch him so he knows he’s awake.”   
Alexander sputtered, trying uselessly to find words, but Thomas took the lead this time. 

“How… you two are…?”  
“Husbands to be. Yes.” James tried to monotone but couldn’t hide the tint of pride buried in his voice. Thomas seemed just as numb and dumbfounded as Alexander, so James went on. 

“We’ve been together for seven years, waiting for the opportunity to marry. Unwittingly, Thomas, you gave us this chance, so thank you.”   
Thomas looked from George to James, “Your excellency, you mean to say-”

“That he’s not running for president, no.” James finished his sentence again, knowing his friend far too well.   
“We will finally be retiring to the fields of Virginia. A quiet life, but a life together.” he shrugged, squeezing George’s hand. 

“So this is why you did it. Saved our necks.” Alexander finally piped up again, regaining his ability to speak after the complete shock.

“Actually, Mr. Secretary, that’s incorrect.” James rasped dryly, making Alexander's egotistical side prickle. The Congressman sighed, trying to find a concise way to put it.   
“When George and I lived in fear every day for our lives, nobody was there to help us.” He began, looking at Alex, who shifted his weight to the other foot. He turned his gaze to Thomas now. 

“When we walked around broken glass at every turn of his presidency, nobody was there to help us. Nobody. We were alone.” 

He pressed into George, perhaps for exhausted support.   
“We now haves a chance to show our young upstarts that nobody is alone. You are never alone, even when bastards like Senator Burr try to take the people you love and twist them against you.”

Alexander started at the sharp language, surprised. He knew James Madison was blunt, but this was bitingly blunt. 

“That’s what he is. A bastard.” he snapped, “And I’ll be damned if we didn’t do everything we could to put him in his worthless place.” James raised his chin effortfully, “Aaron Burr will…. Never come near you again.” his voice simmered with deeply embedded coldness. 

Alexander and Thomas’s breath caught in their throat in unison. They were struck speechless.  
Did this mean…? Could this mean... ? 

“We did what was right. Nothing less, nothing more. How could we prosecute you for something that is leading me to an apple orchard to wed the man I love?” 

Alexander’s heart fluttered, it wouldn’t stop. It didn’t feel real, so he reached out and took Thomas’s hand. The man grasped it in his own, so tight Alex knew he was questioning reality too. 

George watched their expressions with a warmth in his heart, remembering the feeling of new love. They were going to be okay, and they couldn't believe it. 

“You two are free to go, Mr. Secretaries.” George rumbled, bowing his head to the both of them. A light smile spread across his face as he looked at the two men he never would have believed could come together. But glancing at his own lover, he knew more than anyone that love could do mysterious things. 

“I believe there is nothing more that needs to be discussed.”   
He smiled at them.


	46. Final Test

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all are having a beautiful day! Love you all, thank you (as usual 😊) for reading! <3

Alexander coughed and set down his pen for the fourth time, glancing up to his clock and checking the time once again. Finally, it was two o’clock and he could rush home.   
Halle-fucking-lujah.

Thomas had promised him--after a considerable amount of nagging--that he would carve pumpkins with Alexander for Halloween which was coming in thirty days. With the crisp air, fiery autumn leaves, and the thrilling sense of spookiness and mystery, it was his favorite holiday to celebrate, and Thomas was forced to give in to him; he didn't stand a chance against Alexander's puppy eyes. 

As Alexander hopped down the steps of the Treasury, holding his hat to his head against the fall breeze, he was already getting himself excited. The Treasurer could imagine how it would go. Thomas had probably done extensive research on pumpkin carving in order to show him up, and be an annoying, picky perfectionist about everything he was doing. 

He’d squint in extreme concentration, one hand on the pumpkin.   
“... Alexander hand me the knife.” He would just hold out a hand, and Alex would roll his eyes and give him one.   
He'd put it to the pumpkin but immediately look at it like a dead rat.  
“Wh-no, not the big one, you whore, the details one.” 

“What do you mean ‘details one’. There is no ‘details one’, it’s a fucking pumpkin, Da Vinci.”   
“It’s a carving; therefore, it’s art. Go find a smaller knife, I can’t do shit with this machete.”   
“You’re absolutely ridiculous.”   
“Go.” 

Alexander snickered to himself, crunching through the leaves that scattered across the city streets. Many were flattened by carriage wheels and thousands of bustling feet, but a fresh wave must have fallen during the breezy day. The amount of carriages around, now that he was thinking about it, was slim. Not even many people were out and about on this fair-weathered day. He glanced around.

The few people that were actually walking on the streets were ambling slowly, conversing in quiet whispers. 

Alexander was perplexed, but thought nothing of it. He was far too busy being in a good mood, observing the festivities of the season. The ominous mood of the city was none of his concern right now. 

Shop windows were overflowing with autumnal wreaths and various gourds and corn husks. Everyone was in a time of economic bounty in this time of harvest, even in the city, and cornucopias of wheat, rhye, corn, grapes, and sunflowers spilled in every shop. Not to mention the pumpkins at nearly every doorstep, plump and fiery orange like everything else around. 

Alexander took a deep breath, turning onto Wall Street where his old house was at the corner. The immigrant felt like nothing could ruin his mood today, especially since the Cabinet meeting the day before had gone so smoothly, with Washington announcing his retirement privately to the assembly with an emotional speech scripted with Alexander’s pen and some tears along the way. Things wouldn't be official yet, his term wasn't over, but the hard part was over and done. 

Alex strolled quickly, eager to stop by Eliza and Martha’s for a visit before catching a carriage back home. Thomas would kick his ass about being late, like usual, but Alexander couldn’t resist rolling the dice on whether Eliza had made her world-class pumpkin pie yet. It was worth the ass-kicking in his opinion; that pie was absolutely orgasm-inducing. 

Alex thunked up the steps of the familiar little house tucked between the neighboring ones, and approached the door. As soon as he was up there, however, he knew he had played his cards well. The cinnamon-y scent drifted warmly out of the house, permeating through the windows and door. He knocked. 

The warm air buffeted his face when Martha Jefferson opened the door, stout yet elegant in an apron. Clearly she had been helping, her cheeks flushed with fire heat. 

“Oh. You. Come to ransack our kitchen again?” She looked him up and down.   
“Any other reason why I would put up with your ass?”   
“Get in. Pathetic street rat.”   
“Hag.” He sneered, trying not to chuckle.

Their relationship had become such a mutual dislike that it had actually turned around to mutual bickering of fondness. And Alexander was just fine with that; her snarky wit reflected his own and even a bit of Thomas. So, begrudgingly, Alexander HAD to like her at least a little. 

“Oh, Alexander!” Eliza caught sight of him as she walked around inside the kitchen. She was holding a steaming pan with thick cloths between her skin and the burning hazard. She set it down on the table and then returned to the oven, speaking to him over her shoulder. 

“Sit down; don’t touch the pans, they’re hot.”   
“Figured.” Alex sauntered in and tossed his hat lazily on the table, propping his feet up there too. He’d never get the hang of manners. Martha retrieved the second pan, and Eliza untied her arpon and slipped it over her head, smoothing back her frazzled, sweaty hair. The table was strewn with flour and used bowls and extra pie crust which Alexander gladly ate. 

In a few moments, both girls had shuffled their way into stools, watching Alexander intently. Their eyes bore into him in a not-so-casual manner, and Alexander was too busy eating for a few moments before he even picked up on the silence. He looked up. Both sets of eyes, brown and blue, were locked on him. This was weird. 

He just stopped chewing, looking up at them both like he was guilty of something. He glanced from Eliza to Martha, and furrowed his brows. They were looking at him like he was about to say something revolutionarily interesting, but he was just hungry. 

“What?” He spoke through a mouthful of food. The girls just glanced at each other and then back to him. 

“Well, we thought…” Eliza’s eyes darted to Martha’s for reinforcement, then back to Alex. An awkward air suddenly settled over the trio.   
Alex made a face, leaning back in his wicker chair. 

“Thought what?” he swallowed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Eliza licked her lips like she was about to tell him somebody had died. A creeping anxiety started to tug lightly at the bottom of Alex’s stomach. What was going on? 

“Thought… you’d tell us what you and Thomas were planning on doing?” The sentence ended as if it were a question. She folded her hands in her lap, “We were going to come over but we know you were at work…” 

“Guys.” Alexander spoke, trying to seem firm but a waver of uncertainty and uneasiness tainted his voice. He couldn't hold it back any longer.  
“What’re you talking about?” 

There was a silence except for the crackling cooking fire in the hearth, wood popping and fizzing.   
Eliza’s lips remained parted as she looked to Martha, shocked.   
“He doesn’t know.” Martha confirmed her belief, blue eyes penetrating deep into Alexander who sat, dread beginning to pool in the deep pit of his gut. 

“What? What is it?” His eyes darted back and forth, filling with fear, and his mind immediately jumping to the worst, “Is Thomas okay?” 

“Yes.” Eliza immediately responded, not wanting to mislead Alexander any more than they probably already were. But she was so much in shock that he hadn’t heard the news, that she herself had been struck speechless. The news had come out that day and it had already spread through the city like a wildfire, catching on to the roof of every home and shop, sending people flooding to the Battery for further information. 

Eliza ran a hand through her hair. It was so ironic that someone in charge of the country’s politics could be so wrapped up in that world, that when the common people knew of something, it hardly reached them on time. 

“Alexander…” She spoke, voice wavering with nervousness and a hint of pain, she bit her lip. The brunette forced her eyes to meet the dark ones of her husband, twitching with fear.   
“It’s Burr.” 

**

The incessant voices had irritated Thomas for the second half of his day, but he just shrugged it off and continued with his work, James Madison close at his side for collaboration. The two grumbled back and forth occasionally for opinions, but the day was running mostly smoothly, the large speeches having been drafted, and proofing was this step. 

James and Thomas weren’t worried about the presidential debate. That was going to be a breeze, especially when the only competition here was John Adams. Did that even count as competition, Thomas mentally-sneered. 

The latter shook his head slightly like he was trying to brush off an annoying fly. But the irritating buzzing persisted, and he shook his head again to try and ward it off. After a few more moments of annoyance, he dropped his quill down on top of his paper, lips parted in exasperated inconvenience. 

“What in the name of fuck is that sound?” Thomas finally spoke, sitting up from his paper and running a hand through his hair.   
“It’s been going on all day, Tom.” James drawled dryly as sand, not looking up from his paper as his quill continued to scratch. Thomas just heaved a privileged sigh and crossed his arms over his pretty chest. 

“Yes, and now it’s getting on my fucking nerves.” He snarled, standing with a huff to collect his papers from his desk.   
“It’s like having a thousand Alexander’s nagging in my ear.” He grumbled disgruntledly.   
“You love him.” James grunted, finally capping his ink bottle.   
“Yes. Him. Not the nagging.”

James sighed heavily and stood, stiff as a board, from his chair. Thomas glided to his side wordlessly to assist, and James didn’t resist.   
“If you weren’t in love with Hamilton’s nagging, you wouldn’t be in love with Hamilton.” He snorted lightly, “The man is eighty-five percent nag.”

“Why eight-five percent?”   
James shrugged.   
“Seemed rather accurate.”   
“True.” Thomas spoke absentmindedly, glancing over his shoulder at the shuttered window behind his desk. Could there be a parade today? A rally? The press crowd sounded far larger than usual, it was ridiculous.

“James, what in GOD’s name is going on out there? Did I miss a holiday or something?” He squinted, moving towards the window to perhaps open it. James's sharp tone stopped him. 

“Tom, you’ll see when we’re out, don’t open the window.” He clipped shortly in the interest of Thomas’s own safety. 

The Virginian drew his hand back reluctantly from the window, growling in dissatisfaction. He’d have to wait, and he hated diving into something he didn’t expect, especially with the press. He knew James was right, but the idea of a particularly large crowd swarming him with paper reporters and young college kids trying to get a quote from him when ALL he was trying to do was get home to Alexander was insufferable.

“Fine.” Thomas snarled begrudgingly, turning from the window and grabbing his briefcase off the table as he moved to hold the door for James, “But you’re dealing with the press today, I don’t want their shit right now.” 

“Ah. Plans with a certain immigrant?”   
Thomas squinted at him and hummed as James walked by, “Wonderful insight. Any other predictions you’d like to offer your future president?” He played the light threat.   
“Yes.” he rasped, glancing a dry, yet honest look over his shoulder.   
“That you’re a pompous ass.” 

Thomas rolled his eyes. Only James Madison could taunt him like this, only James Madison.   
The two thunked down the stairs and through the lobby, leather shoes clicking on the cold marble as they approached the double doors. The sound had gotten louder as they neared the street. 

Pushing open the door, Thomas prepared himself to duck into his carriage, eager to fend off the pestering crowd and see his Alexander. Work had been intolerable in this past month, Thomas aching to have Alexander at his side constantly. So much so that he planned for conjoined offices for the two in his presidency. Their inseparability had grown exponentially every day it seemed; one could hardly ever be seen without the other. They were each other’s oxygen. 

But nothing could have prepared Thomas for what he was about to walk right into. Nothing. 

As usual, he flung the doors open and put his head down, raising on hand to wave and fend people off at the same time. But at the uproar of the crowd, there was no way he couldn’t look. It was positively BOOMING. A mass of people surged forward up onto the steps of the State Department. 

“What the-” Thomas managed, James grabbing the elbow of his coat before they were swarmed like ants to honey. Thomas looked up, eyes wide in shock, and his jaw dropped at what he saw. The press crowd spilled out well onto the street, some people even out of sight. The crowd roiled, people all struggling for a spot close to the two politicians, pushing and shoving, a sea of coats and hats.

Thomas turned to James incredulously, but the man was still gaping at the surge and roars. A short, stocky man with a silver beard shoved up next to Thomas with a pen. 

“Sir, could we get your opinion on the action at the Battery?”   
Thomas scowled down at him, dark brows furrowed.   
“Excuse me?” 

Another, lanky man in his twenties pushed closer, shoving the other man back into the swarm. “Mr. Secretary, how are you going to respond to this new challenge of your campaign?”   
“Could we get a quote on your plan of action?”   
“How will this change your responses of the presidential debate?” 

Thomas was bombarded with questions that soon began to blend together in the hurricane of voices, slowly but surely, he began to plow his way through the crowd, heart thudding with confusion and overwhelmedness as he pulled James in tow. 

“Tom, what are they talking about?” James snapped in his ear, annoyed.  
“You think I know?” Thomas shot right back through gritted teeth, fighting his way to the door of his carriage, clambering to the far side so James could get in too. They had to literally fight to get the door closed, people were sticking their faces inside and yelling questions. 

“Fuck.” Thomas huffed, sitting back in his seat after jamming the door closed. The carriage lurched forward, Thomas’s driver knowing they should get out of the hubbub as soon as possible. 

James madison leaned heavily against the back of the seat, watching the crowd they were pulling away from through the window.   
“Something’s happened, Tom.” he rasped. Thomas ran a hand through his hair.   
“That’s apparent.” He leaned forward, suddenly getting an idea, and sliding open the wooden panel between themselves and the driver. 

“Sir, take us past the Battery.” 

He heard the driver turn around.   
“The Battery, sir?” his gruff voice sounded full of uneasiness, “Are you sure?”  
“Do not question me, man. Drive if you please.” he sneered and slid it closed, not waiting for a reaction. 

He fell back into his seat, watching the streets go by, the air buzzing and vibrating with tension. James sat as if he was going to say something, but he never did; they both just stared, dumbstruck, at the passing city. Thomas’s mind immediately went to Alexander. Did he see all of this? Was the action-seeking man already at the Battery? 

By the reporters’ questions, this--whatever it was--had nothing to do with Alexander, thank God. But Thomas was uneasy nevertheless. Being out of the know was not a usual activity for the Virginians, and both of them were speechless at this unfamiliar feeling. 

The closer and closer they got to the gathering place, the more people and carriages crowded the streets. James tapped his shoulder, telling him to draw away from the window to avoid recognition; the man was constantly pulling him away from windows. 

“Drive by the center square.” Thomas commanded the driver, who reluctantly reigned the carriage slowly towards the middle of the hubbub where carriages couldn’t go in, only drive by. 

Thomas was struck speechless.

There was a mass of people men and women bundled up against the cold, all framed by autumn leaves. This crowd was different, however. Thomas noted that there was only a buzz of voices, no roaring or disorder. The people all stood, facing the raised dais. 

Thomas’s brows furrowed in confusion. What could this be? He squinted, face close to the window despite James’s nagging. They were all holding flyers. Everyone. As they drew closer, Thomas noticed the people clapped and cheered at random intervals, clearly aroused by what the speaker was saying. 

The speaker.  
Who could it possibly be? The words of the reporters run in his head.   
“New challenge of your campaign..?”   
“What?” Jamed spoke weakly, reminding Thomas that he’d said the words out loud. 

“Nothing…” he mumbled offhandedly, rolling the window down as if in a trance and sticking his head out. The buzz of the crowd filled his ears, and the ringing of one voice over all others, captivating the masses. 

“And with these promises… Implore you… with the man of the people.” Thomas heard the clipped voice say, followed by cheers. Thomas’s stomach dropped.

“I know that voice….”   
“Thomas…” James warned darkly, trying to convince him to come back into the carriage. Thomas ignored him, they were so close to the center, if he could only see the speaker through the swarm of bobbing heads. Instead, he craned harder, looking above everyone else. It seemed there would be no way of seeing, but as if sent by destiny, two men's heads parted just enough, light casting onto the center of the crowd.

And that was when he saw.

His heart dropped down into his chest, an icy deluge of shock rendered him speechless. With the breath caught in his throat, he couldn’t say anything; he could hardly even breathe. 

Aaron Burr stood on the dais, hands gesturing calmly as he spoke to the crowd with unwavering charisma. Reporters crowded around the base, taking notes and awaiting for him to finish in order to take interviews. 

This wasn’t possible. 

Thomas hadn’t even noticed that James had rolled down his own window and was now tapping him on the shoulder. Thomas sputtered, turning back towards him.   
“Burr…”   
“Thomas,” James interrupted him, fear in his white face, “You’re going to want to see this.” 

In his hand, he held one of the yellow flyers.   
Thomas’s heart fluttered in his chest. But somewhere deep inside him, in the pit of dread, he already knew what it said. 

Turning it over in his steady hands, he only needed to read the four words in large black print to confirm his inkling. 

Vote Burr for President. 

The Virginian’s face ran pale, drained of blood. He turned it away from James, back to the dais where the snake himself stood. It couldn’t be. 

And for one fleeting moment, Burr turned his face in Thomas’s direction and caught his eye, through all of the people, through all of the carriages. The man’s face darkened with a smirk only Thomas could detect. There were so many words, so many threats in those dark, glinting eyes. 

Burr was going for the final prize. The bastard was actually going to do it. 

Thomas quickly looked down, eyes meeting the screaming letters of the flyer.   
“Thomas…?”   
“Tell the driver to head to the manor.” He clipped, balling it up in his hand, listening to the parchment crunch. 

**

“He’s got the North.” Thomas spat, slapping the newspaper on the table with the back of his hand.   
“It’s been a day, Thomas. A day.”   
“Well clearly that’s enough.” He laughed, running a hand through his hand and collapsing into the seat at the dining room table. He had gone from standing to sitting to standing over and over again in the past two hours, restless.

Alexander had remained sitting while Thomas paced around and sat down, knuckles to his lip.   
“Maybe if the enslaved peoples actually counted as a whole person instead of a donkey, your southern domination would actually matter.”   
Alexander pursed his lips and cocked his head at Thomas, knowing he was starting a fight. He was right. 

The Virginian immediately screwed up his lips, pointing violently at Alexander.   
“We’re not going there, Alexander.” he whispered so dangerously quiet that Alex could only curl his lip, “We’re not fucking going there.”   
There was only a split second of tense silence. 

“Fine.” Alexander cut back immediately, not letting Thomas away with this one. 

“Let’s hear your solution then, buddy.” he laughed, placing his knuckle back to his lip, “I don’t hear anything but straight shit coming out of your mouth.”   
Thomas stood up, throwing the newspaper down onto the table with a smack. His eyes were blazing with rage, his whole body towering over his partner.

“YOU know I have no power over that matter. You KNOW that, you fucking imbecile.” He roared.  
“Oh yeah, no power, huh?” Alexander cocked his head again, leaning forward and folding his hands on the table. 

“Madison couldn’t pull that one off for ya?” Alexander sneered. He shook his head and slowly crossed his arms across his chest, leaning back in his chair. The immigrant kept his crackling eye contact with his aggressor.   
“Seemed to have some weight in Congress three months ago with the Compromise if I remember. Or was that just cause you wanted your pretty little capital to play with?” 

Thomas stood there, completely still. His eyes were absolute ice, nothing but arctic knives cutting into Alexander. For a long time he just loomed there over his partner who refused to back down, silent, still, looking so dangerous he could tear him apart. 

“Is that what you think?” he whispered, so cold and biting that Alex wanted to cower, but he wouldn’t show any weakness here. 

Alexander clenched his fists beneath the table, knuckles cracking. There was absolutely no sound in the room, deafeningly quiet. He knew he had to tell the truth.   
“No.” he spoke back, just as icy, just as expressionlessly cold. It was the truth; he knew it, but that didn't mean he had to like it. 

Neither moved for another few, tense moments, but Thomas had had his fill. The taller man collapsed back into his chair, placing his hand over his face and heaving a deep, long sigh. 

Alexander swallowed and only sat there for a moment before quietly pushing back his chair. He felt like shit, and he knew Thomas did too. The Treasurer crawled over the top of the table, too lazy to go around, and far too desperate to be with Thomas right now.

“Hey…” Alexander carefully lowered down into his lap, gently peeling his hand away from his face. Thomas’s sharp, dark brows were scowling at him in a biting, ‘back-off’ sort of way, but Alexander knew he didn’t truly want that. Alex knew he needed him right now just as much as he himself always needed Thomas; the Virginian was just too high-strung to show it.

“Alexander, I don’t need your fucking consolation right now.” he sneered quietly, but Alexander wrapped his arms around his neck, pulling himself closer into Thomas’s body. He pressed against him.   
“Yes the hell you do, Thomas.” He laughed lightly, holding him harder and squeezing his eyes shut, “So shut up.” 

Thomas tried to stay angry, but there was just no way he could do that. A few moments into the hug, he completely gave up, wrapping Alexander into himself with a defeated sigh. 

“This isn’t fair.” He spoke muffledly into Alexander’s hair. The more he held Alexander, the angrier he seemed to get, temper growing with every second. But not at his boyfriend.   
“That bastard. That fucking sack of horseshit. I hate him.” He spat with such genuine ferocity it scared Alexander. 

“I fucking hate him. He was supposed to fuck off.”   
“I know.”  
“No.” Thomas cut back sharply, pulling Alex away to look in his face. His eyes were smoldering with hatred, the opposite of the calm he usually was. 

“This was supposed to be about us. I was supposed to win the election and appoint you as my treasurer and have you at my side as I pleased. This was supposed to be about us, fuck it.” 

“Hey. Nobody’s won yet.” Alexander provided the voice of reason, something Thomas was always the one doing. The immigrant was happy to provide it to his boyfriend now.   
“The people are in a frenzy. Two days later when everyone realizes what a conniving jerkoff the man truly is, the north will come flocking back.” He reassured him, forcing those stormy eyes to keep with his own.

“He’s a reticent, whiny little rat. He’ll get one interview and stare into his coffee and realize he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing.” 

Thomas smiled softly, and Alexander smirked, placing a light kiss on Thomas’s dark lips.   
“And he’ll wake up and say, ‘oh shit, I’m a nobody. Slipped my mind.’” Thomas laughed against his lips, pressing back in for another, head swelling at the compliment . 

“And go hide in some shithole never to be seen again.”   
“How about Philly?”  
“Philly sounds fair.”  
“Philly it is.” 

Thomas smirked and glided his hands up under Alexander’s shirt, shocking him a bit with the temperature. 

“Jesus, Thomas!” He jumped, gasping, “Your hands.”   
“What about them?”  
“They’re cold as shit! Off, off--hey!” Alexander broke off as Thomas started pressing the cold palms of his hands to Alexander’s belly and sides, making him writhe and his his back on the edge of the table. 

“Ow.” He grumbled, rubbing his spine and grimacing.   
“You suck. This is why I don’t like you.” he mumbled, crawling off of Thomas’s lap.  
“Mhm. Get back here, Alexander.” He nodded the command, Alexander rolling his eyes as Thomas pulled him in for another deep kiss. 

The immigrant hummed into his mouth as he slowly shuffled back down into Thomas’s lap, settling his hips heavily there. This wasn't so bad, he decided. One kiss melted into another, slow and lazy as they opened and closed against one another. Thomas pressed his tongue against the roof of Alexander’s mouth while brushing over his jawline with his fingertips. 

Alexander grinded slowly down into Thomas’s lap, feeling the heat as their kisses become faster and more desperate by the second. Two months and nothing had worn off in their sex life. Absolutely nothing; they were in constant desperation to be inside each other, and nothing could satisfy it. Three minutes after pounding one out, Alexander, slurring, cum-dumb, would roll over back to Thomas, begging for another round. Over and over again. 

“Heyyyy Thomas…” Alexander slurred over his tongue, lapping into his mouth for another quick kiss. 

“Hmm?” Thomas answered, fingers drifting up to hold Alexander’s hair dominantly behind his neck, twisting his head a bit to bite the most sensitive skin. Alex squirmed on his lap at the sharp pain, cocks rubbing with just the tiniest amount of friction. 

“You remember...Mm… when...Mmph…” his words were interrupted over and over again by Thomas’s starving mouth, the man leaning into him hard and biting at his lips far too hard to be kind, bruising them. 

“When what, Alexander?” He purred, lifting him slowly up from the chair so that he was holding him against his body.   
“Hm.. when you fucked me… on the table…?” He breathed, smiling against Thomas’s lips. The larger smirked filthily, gradually lowering him onto the cold wood. 

“Ah, yes… I think so.” he mused, pressing Alexander down and stroking two nails over his exposed throat. Alex gulped and looked up into those dark, dangerous eyes, needing so much more.   
Thomas cocked his head.   
“As I recall you needed to be beaten raw before you behaved.” 

Alex laughed, growing red at the memory. Thomas just stood above him, staring down like a strict school teacher that had asked a question specifically because a student had not been paying attention, hands resting lightly on Alexander’s thighs. 

“Uh, yeah…” Alexander laughed embarrassedly, “Think I remember that a bit.”  
“A bit?” Thomas cut back, just gently gliding his palms over Alexander’s clothed thighs. He pursed his lips and shook his head with grave sympathy, like he'd just given the wrong answer.

“I don’t think that’s gonna cut it, Alexander. I really don’t.” He shook his head with remorse. Alexander’s gut filled with the thrilled fear he always felt with his dom, Thomas’s hands menacingly trailing their way up to the buckle of his belt. 

Alex began to breathe harder, excited.   
“What, you don’t think I remember?” Alex sneered, a little less than politely. He felt Thomas tense up, immediately detecting the tone he was using with him. His hands stopped moving, and Alex only paused for one scared moment before looking up into Thomas’s eyes. 

They were glinting black with cool ferocity. 

“If I were you... I would SERIOUSLY consider checking. My. Attitude.” He enunciated with clear pronunciation, still not moving his hands that rested on his waistband. Alexander glowered up, refusing to back down. His pride in himself always screwed him over, which Thomas was just fine with. 

“And if I were you I’d shut my arrogant trap.” The smaller sneered right back at him, awaiting a response, “And then I’d go fuck myself.”  
Thomas stared starkly at him for a few electric moments of silence. Alex cocked an eyebrow up at him. 

The Virginian lightly shook his head, eyes unwavering at all as his fingers worked again, moving towards his belt.   
“I don’t know how you fuck up over and over again, dumb slut.” he spat quietly, unbuckling Alexander’s belt in a professional manner. As if this was just business. And it was. 

“But I’m done. I’m done with your shit.” he spat, louder this time, growing hotter and hotter in temper as he worked at the buckle, finally releasing it from the hole.   
“It amazes me how you still speak to me like you’re anything more than a dirty, worthless fucktoy.” he shamed, yanking the belt out of the loops so quickly it whipped the table. 

Alexander flinched, reacting innately to the sound of the belt at this point. But Alexander was in the mood for a little more hell raising.   
“It’s funny, Thomas, cause you say that like you’re actually going to do shit.” he sneered, scoffing rudely in his face. Thomas was such a haughty asshole. 

The man stared at him, looming above with his warm belt folded neatly in his hand. Those dark eyes cut into Alex.   
“Do continue, Alexander.” he whispered, seething. He shook his head slightly, “Please do.” He wanted to punish Alexander. So hard. All he needed was a reason, “I beg you.” 

Alex hummed, squinting lovingly up at him.   
“Well, honey. We both know you’re not going to do squat-shit. Are you.” he stated, sticking out his bottom lip in mockery. Thomas huffed lightly through his nose.

There was a pause. 

“That’s what I thought.” Alex whispered, smirking in taunting victory. 

Thomas placed his hands behind his back, standing with his arrogant chin in the air. There was a glint in his eye that was so much more frigid than ice, it was BITING. It was a feral, rabid danger, a threat. 

“Thank you, Alexander.” he spoke with an impossibly even tone. Alex furrowed his brows, perplexed, but Thomas just remained calm. 

“You have one minute to remove your clothes. Not a fucking word.”  
“H-”  
“Not. A fucking. Word.” Thomas spoke through clenched teeth, standing off Alexander. To the immigrant’s frustration, Thomas won like he always did, smirking in amusement as his sub started to get undressed, throwing his clothes to the floor in disgruntled anger. 

Thomas strolled out of the room loftily, leaving Alexander to grumble to himself. 

In precisely a minute, on the dot, Alexander heard Thomas’s footsteps approaching, a considerable amount of clinking as well. His heart leaped a beat, thudding in his chest; he knew he was about to get something interesting today, and he was glad for it. Anything to take both their minds away from the political world. To vent their frustration somewhere else. 

Alex sat on the edge of the table, swinging his legs with goosebumps running up his arms. So chilly sitting naked in the middle of a room. So exposed. 

When Thomas walked into sight, Alexander physically did a double take. His mouth fell open. 

“The hell are you looking at.” Thomas sneered, dropping all of the chains onto one chair, brushing off his hands. Alexander sat agape. Holy fucking shit. 

“Uh, I don’t know, Thomas, maybe the wall of chains you just walked into the room?” He scoffed incredulously, “When did you have time to make this?”  
“I don’t remember saying you could speak.” Thomas cut him off, shooting him a glare over his shoulder.

The man himself looked irresistible. He had changed, Alexander noted, into that dashing outfit he had worn the night they had made amends: blood red coat, bloodred breeches, and everything else in black, including his smoothed back hair and his sharp brows. 

“Not planning on getting naked?” Alex inquired. Thomas shot him another look.  
“I’m sorry, are you deaf?” He spat, gesturing at him with the belt. Alex grinded his jaw, “Shut up. Lay on your back.” Thomas shook his head in annoyance, returning to his chains. 

In only a minute he had everything arranged, meticulously tying down Alexander’s wrists and ankles to the legs of the table, keeping him completely immobilized there. Not to mention that he had fit Alexander’s collar to his muzzle, keeping his head still and his face locked up so he couldn’t bite him through the mesh. 

Alex’s heart had been pattering against his ribs, so eager to see what Thomas was planning for him, but it was hard to do much but run his mouth when he was chained down. 

“So.” Alex started conversationally, pulling experimentally at the bindings, “I take it you don’t like ropes?” 

Thomas approached him once again, sauntering at a slow, leisurely pace. He laughed lightly, trailing one finger all the way from his calf up to his chest as he strolled by.   
“Hmph. Right you are, Alexander. Right you are.” he mused, trailing that nail up between his collarbones and to his throat. 

He swirled it there, just above his collar, watching coldly as Alexander bit his lip and squirmed. The chains clinked as he tried to move, but couldn’t. He was helpless against the uncomfortable, tickling, pricking sensation. Thomas smiled down at him.   
“That’s why I like chains, Alexander.” he spoke snake-like, cunning in a way that made Alex want to crack his jaw and make love to him at the same time. 

Thomas leaned in, breath brushing Alexander’s lips from above the muzzle. He smiled, twitching those heavy, dark brows in a provocative way.   
“I like to hear the sound of you struggling.”   
“You’re fucking repulsive.” 

Thomas laughed, strolling business-like around the edge of the table, chin in the air.   
“Now, Alexander, you may have noticed that I am not getting undressed.” He spoke loftily, stopping by the chair and straightening his cuffs elegantly. 

Alexander could scarcely turn his head to watch. Barely. 

“That’s because certain forms of discipline require my full attention.” he dictated without looking at him.   
Thomas picked up the belt in one hand, and with a bottle Alexander hadn’t seen before, uncapped it and rubbed some of the slick substance on to his hand. 

Alex wriggled a bit, curious.   
“What’s that?” he asked. Thomas rubbed it on his hands with a doctor-like professionality. His manner right now was really turning Alexander on, and he had no idea why. He just wanted him to continue, really badly, actually, as the dull heat seeped at the pit of his belly. 

“That, Alexander, is clove oil.” He spoke plainly reaching in his coat pocket and gentlemanly pulling out his glasses. He placed them on his nose, and Alex knew he was done for. This man--right here--he loved this man. He was going to torture him, and he was going to do it methodically. To think he had ever called his boyfriend vanilla. 

“And what the hell is that supposed to mean?” Alex scoffed, laughing a bit in demand for further explanation. Thomas didn’t respond, just stepped closer until he was at his side at the table. 

He placed a light hand on Alexander’s right thigh, pressing gently, pleasantly.   
“Would you like a demonstration?” He asked coldly, stormy eyes daring Alexander to say yes. He wanted it anyway as he nodded, chains clattering a bit around his muzzle. 

“Yes.”   
Thomas coldly twitched an eyebrow. “Yes…?”   
“Sir.” Alexander finished, clenching his teeth. The Virginian was really milking this one out; he knew he was by the way he dipped his head in approval. Thomas rubbed his hands together and readjusted his grip on the belt, putting it in prime position. He sniffed. 

Alexander only had a split second to brace himself before Thomas raised the punishing leather and brought it down thwacking onto his thigh. 

“SHIT!” Alexander growled through clenched teeth, eyes squeezed shut as his toes curled. His legs trembled a bit as the stinging reverberated through them, the sensation of pain blending with that of pleasure. 

Alex let his head fall back onto the table. Thomas watched him for a moment, letting him come back to his senses before continuing. He raised one finger, letting Alexander see it clearly. 

“Clove oil,” he began slowly as if he were giving a lecture at King’s College, “Is a natural spice originating in Indonesia. Rather lovely scent, even better taste.” he noted casually, the high-end chef part of him coming out, he turned back to the slowly reddening mark on his thigh.  
“But when put on irritated skin…” he locked eyes with Alexander, his pretty little face all caged up from nose down. 

“It has the nasty little tendency to…” He glided the finger over the sensitive area, “Sting…”

It only took a split second of hesitation for Alexander to choke through clenched teeth, letting his head whip back and bang against the hard wood of the table. His muscles clenched, pulling uselessly against the chains. Thomas held his finger over the mark for a total of three seconds before carefully pulling back. Alexander continued to pant, heaving shaky breaths. 

Thomas cocked his head, watching Alex breathe.   
“How are you feeling, mon jouet?” he purred with a cruel smirk. Alexander slowly, with difficulty, raised his head to look at Thomas. 

“That… That…” he panted, trying to make out some words, “Is amazing.” he sputtered, falling back to the table. 

“Hmm. You like?” Thomas hummed, stroking a finger up and down his pretty cheekbone. Alex could only nod. His dom sniffed professionally.  
“Well. I will continue.” he permitted with a curt nod, straightening his glasses. He rounded to the other side. 

“This is going to hurt, Alexander. A lot.” He drawled coldly, positioning himself, “And you are going to cry. And I don’t particularly care.” shrugged. 

“Do your worst, you filthy Virginian fuck.” Alexander laughed, spitting the words out. Thomas gripped the belt tighter, jangling the buckle.  
“I would be very careful what I wish for.” he warned. God, he loved that immigrant. 

**

Thomas entered the room in a hush, quietly closing the door behind him with a click. Alexander lay, clean and dry in the bed as he had been for an hour or so, snoring softly. He was an exhausted heap of a boy, and Thomas had made him some dinner, knowing he couldn’t drag his ass out of bed. 

Thomas had taken gentle care of him after their session and let him sleep for a while. Alexander would need the rest; Thomas had whipped his thighs repeatedly, Alexander begging and sobbing for more on the edge of unconsciousness. And then Thomas had another phase planned. Keeping Alex immobilized on the table, he forced him to cum with his fingers, forced orgasms out of him over and over and over again until he was actually cumming dry. 

Thomas lowered himself down carefully on the edge of the bed watching Alexander stir. Thomas had just pulled his boyfriend's hair into a ponytail but it was already out, splayed over his sleeping face in a rats nest of a mess. 

“Mmng…?” Alex made a vaguely confused grunt, rubbing a palm over his mouth and rubbing. Thomas snorted.   
“Attractive.”   
Alexander only opened his eyes, blearily staring up at Thomas.   
“God?… I-Is that you?” Alexander slurred, groping around for the plate and finding the edge, pulling towards him, “Have you finally taken me.” 

“Not God, no.” Thomas sighed, “Far his superior.”   
“Ew. Thomas. Cooties.” Alex grunted, eyes still closed.  
“Thomas and food.”  
“I now stand with your earlier statement.”   
“Thought so.” 

Alexander effortfully sat up, stiff and grimacing with every movement. Thomas watched, dark eyes scanning him carefully.   
“Is the blanket hurting you?” he asked with slight concern.   
“No. Legs.” 

Thomas chuckled.   
“You asked for it. You were asking for it all evening, so I don’t want to hear any fucking complaints from you.” he pulled up the blanket and climbed in, Alex shivering at the brief burst of cold air.   
“Yeah, but you’re such an ass about it.” he pouted through a full mouth, digging into dinner as usual.   
“And I’ll do it again.” Thomas stole his favorite pillow back from Alex.   
“Hey, asshole, I was using that-”   
“I let you nap for an hour. I think a good, ‘Thank you, Thomas. I love you Thomas. I’ll never bother you again, thomas’ would do.” 

Alex took another forkful and snorted.   
“Yeah… I’d really rather just suck your dick.”   
“Hmph.”  
Thomas watched him coldly, laughing through his nose. He just laid there and observed his boyfriend for a few moments as he chewed. 

“Has anyone ever told you that you have the sex drive of Satan?” Thomas drawled conversationally. Alexander kept wolfing down his food, Thomas gazing at him, propped up on an elbow. 

“Yeah, a few.”  
The larger prickled immediately, not expecting that response. “Who?” he shot right back, eyebrows swooping down. Alexander scraped up the last of his dinner, placing the plate on the shelf ledge.   
“Easy there, big boy.” he chortled, taking a swig of water, “I’m kidding.”

Thomas squinted at him, muscles still tense, and grumbled something under his breath. The bed bounced as Alexander chuckled, pulling the blankets up over himself and wrapping like a burrito, pushing up next to Thomas whilst the latter’s chest still rumbled with a soft growl. He winced a bit at the feeling on his raw, welted legs. 

“Are you always this jealous.”   
“I’m not jealous.” Thomas mumbled, digging in and finding Alexander’s waist to pull him close.   
“Ah, bullshit. Come off it.”   
“I’m territorial. You know that.”   
“Yeah but is it just me? Like, your little French boys, how was it with them?”

“Jesus Christ, Alexander.”  
“No no no come back.” Alex laughed, clinging to Thomas and wrapping his arms and legs around him, pulling him back to face him.   
“I wanna know. Please?” he pouted, giving Alexander the puppy dog eyes, those fucking puppy dog eyes, “Please?”

Thomas stared at him for a moment and sighed, noting his inevitable defeat, and groaned, rolling his head back. Alex just smiled and glowed at him, wiggling closer.   
“Go on.”  
“Go fuck yourself.” Thomas grumbled, trying to figure out where to begin. He licked his lips. 

“I… only ever had casual sex when I was in France.” he recalled vaguely, letting it seep slowly back into his mind; it was only a year ago.   
“France is a place revolving around sex. Everywhere you go is sex.”   
“Hm, can’t imagine why you went.”   
“To be ambassador at age nineteen, if I remember correctly.” he sneered cockily, 

“I quickly repelled the women who doted on me, as you can imagine. I was nineteen at the time, and they were obsessed. Obsessed little schoolgirls.” 

Alexander was laughing silently into his hand, trying not to interrupt as he imagined Thomas sneering and waving off hair-twirling girls. It was fucking hilarious.  
“Anyways, I much preferred their brothers.”  
“You are a whole new level of douche.”   
“Watch it. I was a playboy; what the hell else did I have to do?” 

Alex snickered and Thomas continued.   
“I liked them young. Sixteen, about. I was gentle with them.”   
“Something tells me that that’s bullshit.”   
“Actually, Alexander.” Thomas cut back, brushing his fingers over his cheekbones, “They were lambs, I didn’t need to be rough with them as I do for you.” he rolled his eyes and kissed his sub, leaving him with a stinging bite on his lip.

“But I found myself rather bored after a bit. I’d go with one, go all sweet with him, but there was nothing entertaining after the first time. So onto the next pretty little twink.”   
“Oh my God, Thomas.” Alexander wheezed. Thomas hooked a leg over Alexander humming lightly.

“Little did I know I needed a toy with a little more fire. Playing with fire is a hell of a lot more…entertaining.”   
“Fire." Alexander mused, "And that’s where I come in.” he gazed with those big brown eyes up into Thomas’s domineering ones. The man smirked right back, twitching an eyebrow and holding Alex’s chin lightly in his hand.

“An obnoxious little slut with an attitude?” he hummed, drawing his face close to his own. Alex tilted his chin up to look into Thomas’s eyes. Thomas laughed lightly from his nose.  
“I wouldn’t trade my Alexander for the world.” he purred, pressing his mouth into Alex’s. 

They stayed like that for a while, Thomas exhaling through his nose and wrapping Alexander up closer to his body, conscious of him twitching from the sensitive pain. He was gentle on him. because on God, he was in love with that boy.   
“I love you, honey.” Thomas mumbled, slowly, concluding a kiss and gazing into watery brown eyes. The way Alexander looked at him, lips still parted from the kiss, his whole heart sighing…   
“Nobody I’ve ever had compares to you. You know that, right?” he brushed a thumb over Alexander’s cheekbone lightly, watching him smile. 

“Yeah. I’m pretty great.”   
Thomas rolled his eyes affectionately and Alexander giggled and leaned in for another quick kiss.   
“But yes. I love you, Thomas. And this whole thing with Burr,” 

Thomas suddenly remembered it at his words, heart sinking miserably into his stomach. He sighed but Alex wouldn’t let it go.   
“We’re going to win. I don’t know how yet, not going to lie, but we can. And we’re going to.” 

Thomas tried to look away but Alex held his eyes.   
“Hey.” he clipped, captivating him, “This is the final test.” Thomas twitched his eyebrows at him, a bit confused at his meaning. 

Alexander curled his arms against Thomas’s chest, needing to be as close to him as possible.   
“Burr’s put us through fire over and over again, and we’ve walked right out and kicked that douchebag’s ass. This is the last time we’re going to kick his ass.”   
“Quite the optimist.”   
“No. I’m just right.” Alex shrugged, “We’ll figure this out.” He buried his face into Thomas’s neck, not wanting him to see him well up, “We’ll…” he couldn’t finish. 

“Shh… it’s okay.” Thomas kissed the top of his head, letting his eyes fall closed. He could offer no words of comfort; there was simply nothing for certain right now except for one thing. All he knew was that with Alexander by his side, he was alright. 

Not knowing what he was doing or why, Thomas slowly pulled back the blanket, exposing Alexander to him.   
“Wh-”  
“Just give me a minute.” Thomas whispered offhandedly, still in a sort of entrancement as he set the edge of the blanket down, staring. Alexander’s body was half-clothed, wearing Thomas’s long shirt and absolutely nothing else. 

Thomas’s dark eyes took him in, sweeping over every part of his body. Alexander just laid there, curiously watching his lover.  
Gently exhaling, Thomas reached out a hand and brushed his fingertips over Alexander’s ankle. It was bruised from pulling at metal shackles, as was the other one. And Thomas just touched the bruise, tenderly skimming his fingers over.

Alexander swallowed, jerking a bit when he touched a sensitive spot on his other ankle. Thomas looked over into Alexander’s eyes, but Alex was just watching his partner’s hand, gazing at it.   
With gentle fingertips, Thomas trailed up to Alexander’s knee meeting the hem of the fabric of his white shirt. His eyes darted to the immigrant’s face once more before carefully, cautiously pulling up the hem, gradually revealing the crisscrossing streaks of purple and blue up his thighs. 

“Thomas…” Alexander breathed.   
“Shh…” Thomas responded, just staring for a moment. The two were silent for a period of time, Thomas gazing from between Alex’s calves at the bruises. So many bruises, one hand resting lightly on each knee.  
And finally, with a sniff, he moved, gliding those fingertips to his mid-thigh. Alexander flinched, legs twitching with a quiet gasp, but he took a deep breath. This was Thomas, he had to remember. Thomas was careful with him. Thomas loved him. 

Still gazing, captivated at his thighs, Thomas slowly bent over. Alexander didn’t understand at first, until Thomas was kissing a bruise with a softness he had never known he was capable of. It was like a feather, just a wisp of a touch from his lips. Alexander could feel his breath on his skin. 

Thomas kissed every whiplash on both thighs, taking his sweet time, going tenderly gentle on the more painful ones. He knew exactly the speed to go, so slowly, and exactly the pressure to give Alexander. He knew everything about him. 

Thomas took a long time and finished with a long kiss, slowly looking up, his calm, dark eyes finding Alexander’s. He never left them as he crawled up to Alexander’s side, pulling him close once again.  
Alexander wondered what that was. What he had just done and why. But somewhere he knew that Thomas was trying to show his love on a far more complicated level. And he was fine not completely understanding... That was okay. 

The Virginian exhaled, running his fingertips down Alexander's arms, gazing into his eyes until he reached his hands. He surrendered them willingly, letting Thomas bring them up towards his face.

His wrists were bruised as well, for the same reason as his ankles. And Thomas brought them carefully to his face and pressed his lips to the wrists one at a time, eyes fluttering closed. And when he was finally finished, he set his hands back down softly in the sheets.

Alexander looked at him for a long time, curling against his warm, heat-radiating body.   
“You’re a softy.” he whispered playfully, nuzzling into him. Thomas just hummed lightly, pulling him into his embrace and hooking a leg over him. 

“Only for you.”   
And for some reason, those words carried a lot more than they appeared. Alexander sighed, shuffling down, ready to go to sleep. 

“We will figure this out, Alexander.” Thomas mumbled, pulling the covers back up.   
“I know.” Alex responded, wishing he could believe his own words. 

And as they fell asleep, there was no denying the fear creeping into both of their hearts. There was no way to stop it.

All they could do was cling to each other and hope, as the fear took grip in those lovers’ chests.

**

There was a soft knock from the open threshold, making James start and set down the paper he was reading, blinking the bleariness and yellow-stained light from his eyes. 

George was leaning into the room soft smile playing on his lips in greeting, but quickly fading when he saw the activity taking place. 

“Still reading that paper?” Georged sighed, stepping into the room and crossing it tiredly. James exhaled as well, removing his glasses and rubbing where they dug into his nose.   
“What else is there to read.” he rasped, shaking his head lightly, “It’s all anyone is talking about.” 

George stopped behind him, placing his hands on James’s shoulders. He pressed into them tenderly, massaging him as he felt the clear tension that was always building up in his fiancée. James leaned back into his chair. 

George pursed his lips.   
“I know.” He nodded to himself, mind already going elsewhere, thinking of everything that had happened in the day. James’s wheels were turning, analysing every little thing that had taken place. 

“Do you think…” He began, closing his eyes and sighing. He started again, “Do you think this could be my fault, George?” he whispered, looking down at his desk. Washington’s hands stopped massaging on his shoulders, his face falling with concern. 

“Why on earth would you think such a thing?” He asked, more sympathetic than accusatory. James let his head fall to his chest.   
“I…” Tears welled up in his eyes and he sniffed, warding them off strongly, “I told you to tell Burr off. It was I.” He spoke, trying to stay firm.   
“Yes. And rightly so.”   
“Perhaps in the threats, I just fanned the flame. Perhaps I propelled him towards this decision...” 

George gaped, “James.” he clipped shortly, forcing the man to look tiredly up at him, his blue eyes brimming with remorse. George shook his head in shock as he spoke.

“I need you to listen to me right now.” He breathed, reaching down and taking James’s hand over his shoulder, “You are not the cause of what’s happened. You’re not.” He spoke firmly, helping James to quietly rise from the chair and face him, eyes downcast. 

“But you ARE the cause of Thomas and Alexander keeping their lives. You ARE the cause of showing me the reason in this world.” He spoke softly, pulling James’s hand to rest up on his heart, pressing it there to his chest.   
“I just…” James breathed, far too exhausted to finish that sentence. 

George just shook his head lightly and pulled him carefully into his arms as if made of glass, fragile and precious. Arms around his future husband’s waist, George gently rocked him in the middle of their quiet office. 

James sighed, already feeling the stress seep out of him and dissipate as it always did when George held him   
“I’m sorry.” He whispered. George squeezed his eyes shut and moved one finger to tilt James’s chin up to his. He gazed into those watery blue eyes with… SO much love.   
“Don’t.” He breathed, holding up that chin so delicately and placing a soft kiss on his lips. 

James’s whole body sighed, the weight and shame finally taking its toll as he melted under George’s kiss. All James could do was lean heavily into him and open his lips against his lover’s, allowing him entry. George willingly took the offer, with impossible carefulness, bending to collect James in his arms, lifting him from the floor with one arm under his back and the other in the crook of his knees. 

Like this, he walked slowly, careful not to rock him as he carried him to bed. He was slow on the stairs, feeling no rush to push either of them. George just kissed his lover, softly padding down the carpeted hallway. When they reached the quiet room, George laid him down with a tenderness unknown to mankind, and held the last kiss for a long, long time.

When he finally pulled away, just an inch, James slowly opened his bleary eyes, gazing up at George’s. So many worlds in those eyes. So many words.   
“George, can you…?” he trailed off bashfully.  
George reached a hand up to cup his face, brushing a thumb over his cheekbone. He nodded.

“Of course, my love.” he whispered, tucking a bit of hair behind his ear, “You just tell me what you need.” He breathed, leaning down to kiss James again whilst his fingers worked at a crawling pace to unbutton his shirt and spread it. James was far too weak to reciprocate, but George understood, and he didn’t mind doing his own at all. 

Breeches followed, and soon the two lovers were pressed together, body on body, on the bed. George couldn’t get enough of those eyes; seven years and he never would. And James gazed right back, tears welling once again. 

“I can’t wait to marry you…” James rasped, perhaps his last words he could manage of the day. George’s heart swelled. 

“...I love you.” He smiled right back, pressing a light kiss to the end of his nose before gently, pressing in just the tip. James’s eyes fluttered closed and he exhaled a shaky breath. George brushed his face again, rhythmic, slow, tender strokes with his thumb.   
“Alright?” he breathed. 

James nodded and inhaled, controlling his breathing as George took care of him. The most tender, utmost care of every aspect of him. The right pace, the right time. Passionate, breathy whimpers of love could be heard as George rocked the man he loved into peace. 

Their bliss was so close. So close… they could almost smell the faint, sweet scent of apples in the autumn breeze, beckoning them to that orchard a million miles away.

But their best friends were in danger. Their best friends were facing unspeakable perils. And without ever saying it, both lovers knew they could not finally… finally find their peace until Thomas and Alexander did as well. This was the final test.


	47. How to Say Goodbye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for waiting! Stay tuned for next chapter, loves! I am so grateful for all of your support! 😊

Thomas awoke at the break of dawn as he always did, eyes opening slowly and blinking away the beariness. Still dreamy, he let consciousness settle in before moving, just staring up at the close ceiling of the alcove bed, the eggshell white. 

Thomas could feel Alexander breathing against him as he lay in stillness.  
They had rolled off each other during the night, but their sides were pressed together. And Thomas could feel him gently breathing, little ribs rising and falling against him, so even and peaceful. It was enough to lull him right back to sleep. 

And when his head turned to the side to look at him, his heart immediately did the thing again. Where it’s just crushed with an overwhelming onslaught of love, so much that it floods him and he doesn’t even know what to do with it all. Where should he even put it? There’s simply too much to put it all somewhere, so he just has to wait for it to pass. Sometimes he hated feeling so helpless to it. 

Thomas exhaled, cupping Alexander’s sleeping face in his hand, lacing his fingers around the back of his neck in his absurd bedhead. Dork.   
And he placed his warm lips onto Alexander’s still, peaceful face, pressing gently with his own. 

Alexander stirred at the feeling, coming back to consciousness at the kiss. His eyes fluttered half-open, and when he saw Thomas above him, he closed them once again and exhaled against Thomas’s face, calm. 

They stayed that way for a bit in the morning, autumn silence. 

The Virginian eventually pulled away half an inch, blearily opening his eyes. Alexander did the same, gazing up with dreams still whirling in his own.   
“Hey.” Alex whispered and smiled, blinking bashfully. 

And Thomas’s heart was doing the damn thing again. Great. 

“Hello.” Thomas grumbled back, low voice vibrating against Alexander, “How’d you sleep?”   
Alex hummed and stretched his arms up over his head, “Like a drunk homeless guy on a hot Sunday afternoon.”   
“Romantic.” Thomas sneered playfully, pecking him on the lips once more before pulling back the covers and swinging his feet out of bed. 

He rubbed a hand over his face, stepping tiredly to the dresser. He yawned.   
Alexander had sat up, leaning against the pillows and tucking his disaster-hair behind his ears, sticking out in all directions like a porcupine.   
“Did YOU sleep?”   
“Yes.” Thomas responded with a grunt, shuffling through the hanging clothes. Alexander squinted at him whilst he fumbled with their clothes, not buying it in the slightest. 

“You sure?”   
“Mhm.” he grunted again, picking out a coat. Alexander shrugged, frowning.   
“Alright, if you’re sure.” Alexander mumbled, fiddling with a thread on the blanket between two fingers. 

Thomas heaved the long, five second sigh of exasperation that he reserved just for Alexander, and turned around to face him again. 

He blinked tiredly, approaching the bed,   
“You annoy me.” he spoke, leaning in to kiss Alexander.  
“My job.” Alex nodded, tucking some hair behind Thomas’s ear for him, “Why didn’t you sleep? Was I snoring?” 

“You know I kick you when you snore.” Thomas drawled.   
“And hard too.” Alexander grumbled. 

Thomas sat down on the edge of the bed and sighed, placing a hand on Alexander’s blanketed thigh, accidentally making him flinch slightly. He looked into those warm eyes and smiled softly.   
“I was contemplating the election.”

Alexander immediately groaned, huffing. “Thomas, You mean you were worrying.”  
“Contemplating.”   
“Thomas.” Alex sighed, blinking unimpressed at him. 

Thomas stood up again, pulling his arms roughly into a white shirt, “Okay, so what if I’m a little worried.” Thomas snapped back, brows furrowing, “I fucking should be. We’re right back where we started and I can’t see the finish line being anything but watching Burr take everything away from us.” 

“Taking you from me…” Thomas finished silently in his head, not wanting to let his softness show through; he already looked weak. 

“So you’re just never gonna sleep again till we win the election.” Alex scoffed, annoyed.   
“You got it, kid.” 

There was a silence as Thomas continued to dress, hot and bothered. But his boyfriend had decided where to draw the line.   
Alexander looked him up and down, curling a lip, “Jesus Christ man, pull yourself together.” Alex snapped. 

Thomas stopped what he was doing, freezing his fingers tying his cravat.   
“Excuse me?” 

“I’m serious, Jefferson, pull your shit together. I mean, this is ridiculous.” Alexander gestured at him with a flat hand, ready to make his point long and thorough as he always did.   
“You think staying up late is going to help you win this? Not sleeping, not eating, not taking any time to think?” Alexander pulled the blanket aside, stepping out of bed onto the cold floor, barefoot. 

He approached Thomas.   
“That’s bullshit. And Burr will swoop in and take advantage of that and have the office before you know what the hell just happened.” 

Thomas was gaping at him, but Alexander didn’t back down, he wouldn’t back down when things were about Thomas; he refused to let Thomas suffer for something he could control.   
“You need to get sleep, Thomas. If we’re ever going to figure this out, you gotta take time for yourself. You WILL, or I’ll make you.” 

“Make me?” Thomas sniffed, tossing his chin arrogantly in the air. Alexander nodded right back, cutting into those ebony eyes.   
“Make you. If you think I’m going to let you beat yourself up over this, then you’re just a fucking moron. Which is also a possibility.” he shrugged playfully.

Alexander stepped even closer, lacing his arms around Thomas’s warm waist, inside his coat and liking his hands; he gazed up into his lover’s eyes.   
“I love you. And we got this.” he hugged him like a big puppy,  
“I got you.” 

Thomas looked down on him, so much shorter and smaller, yet holding him like he was six foot six. “You got me?” Thomas purred amusedly, echoing Alexander and tilting his chin up with one finger to look in his pretty face. 

He loved that face. 

“I got you.” Alexander confirmed, standing on his tiptoes for a kiss, Thomas just grinned lightly, shaking his head, and pressing into Alexander’s mouth.   
“I love you too…” he mumbled around Alex’s tongue, raking the roof of his mouth. 

The twitter of a few lone birds, mourning doves, was amplified in the misty morning silence, and it was the only sound around the manor house. Peaceful, despite all of the turmoil going on in the city. The two could stay like that for eternity. Without a second thought, they would halt time and stay right there, pressed against each other. 

But they had to come back to reality. 

“Mm… wash up?” Thomas offered.   
“Yep.” Alex concurred with one last kiss.   
“Then we’re going for a ride.” 

Now THAT caught Alexander off guard. He paused, pulling away from Thomas a bit and cocking his head curiously.   
“Like, we’re riding each other?” 

Thomas curled his lip, padding over to the bathroom with Alexandr in tow.   
“No, you whore. Get your mind out of the gutter.”   
“Well then whaddya mean, buddy?" Alexander sneered defensively. 

Alex followed Thomas into the bathroom standing in front of the mirror like he was supposed to whilst Thomas fetched the brush.   
“As in you and I are going to mount my horse and go for a ride in the woods and admire these magnificent autumn leaves.” 

Thomas finished eloquently, coming up behind Alexander and placing a large hand on his head, holding him still while he started at the bottom to work out the knots, mumbling complaints about the ratty condition. Alexander’s jaw dropped and he tried to wiggle free and turn his head, but Thomas was far too firm for that. 

“No the hell we’re not.” Alexander spat, “I hate horses.”   
“Oh, so you didn’t mean what you said earlier?” Thomas questioned lightly. Alexander paused, meeting his cunning eyes in the mirror.   
“Huh?” he made a face. Thomas guided the brush carefully around his ear so as not to harm it. 

“You said take time for myself.”  
“Yeah, YOURSELF. Your ass, not mine.” Alex crossed his arms.   
“Well, I need you by my side in order to do that.”   
Alexander blinked, outraged. “That makes no sense.” 

Thomas hummed contently, putting the brush aside on the wash basin edge. He ran his fingers through Alexander’s smooth long hair, and it felt so good to the immigrant he could sigh; he loved having his hair played with and Thomas knew that. Bitch. 

“It does.”   
“In what world does that make sense?” Alexander fought back.   
“In a world where I am not myself when I am without you.”   
“Real poetic, Shakespeare, but I hate horses.”   
“When?”  
“Huh?  
“When did I fucking ask.” 

Alexander groaned, rolling his head back in exasperation and stomping a foot at the same time. He could already feel that he was going to lose this one; it was evident. Thomas knew it too and hugged him from behind, squeezing him in this impossibly boyfriend-ish way. Alexander just huffed grumpily, refusing to smile until Thomas kissed his neck, tickling him. 

“Fine. I’ll go on your stupid horse with your stupid ass. Stupid.” Alex complained like a toddler.  
“I thought so.” Thomas purred, despite Alexander’s grumpiness trailing his fingers softly over Alexander’s collarbones. 

Thomas tilted his head, observing him lightly, and Alexander just watched his movements in the mirror. Thomas trailed his fingers down his front, finding the hem of his shirt and brushing it before taking it between two fingers. 

“Happy to see me?” Alexander inquired playfully with a whisper as Thomas pulled the hem, lifting his shirt up his smooth belly.   
“There’s a gun in the dresser, Alexander. If I ever say no to that question, I want you to shoot me.” 

Alex laughed in a short burst as Thomas pulled the shirt up and over his head, letting it fall gracefully to the floor like an angel’s veil. Now the two were standing together in the mirror, one completely bare, one completely dressed. Thomas ran his hands through Alexander’s hair, smoothing it over once more. 

When he was finished, Thomas gazed at his boyfriend through the mirror. And noticed that he was staring. Just staring at his legs, those criss-crossing purple and blue hues, some deep scarlet. Alexander’s eyes raked over them, a strange glint behind those irises. 

“What is it, baby?” Thomas purred lowly, planting a soft kiss behind his ear, “Hm?”   
Alex just shook his head slightly, lips parted with the tiniest hint of a smile tugging at the corner.   
“I love them…” he breathed. 

A silence fell over the two. 

Thomas placed his hands on his waist, brushing his first knuckles up and down his sharp hip bones.   
“Hm?” He questioned again, placing his head gently on top of Alexander’s. The immigrant now broke out into a smile, eyes still focused on his thighs. 

“Makes no sense…” he began quietly, eyes darting up to Thomas’s for one moment before returning, mesmerized, “But I love the bruises you put on me. It’s like art...” 

“Mhm…” Thomas responded, allowing Alexander to go on as he kept swirling his fingertips slowly over Alex’s lower belly, touching him with precise carefulness, “A little abstract?” he purred against Alex’s head.

The smaller nodded a bit, “Yeah.” He decided. Thomas began to trail his fingertips at a crawling pace down Alexander’s hips, absent-minded.   
“You know why I do it?” he breathed, brushing his thumbs over the first bruises JUST so. Alex’s eyes fluttered slightly at the contact. 

“You…” Alexander whispered, eyes closed now that Thomas was slowly ghosting his fingers over the dark markings, “It’s love, right?”   
Thomas smiled at his dumb-sounding vagueness and pressed a deep kiss to the side of Alexander’s neck, making him sigh. 

“I do, yes. But it’s because I want to show you every part of me, Alexander. Every part.” Thomas breathed, kissing his jaw, “Even if they’re ugly…” He touched on a sensitive bruise, making Alexander flinch. But the immigrant was not one to leave something unquestioned.

“But they’re not ugly.” he countered his dom, pointing out what he’d said earlier, “They’re beautiful. They… I don’t know, they remind me of you.”   
Thomas was silent for a moment. Alexander could feel his lover close his eyes in serenity. 

“And that’s how I know you’re the one.” 

Alexander opened his eyes, slightly puzzled, but he knew Thomas would go on. Whenever they had these dizzying, philosophical, abstract conversations, he knew Thomas would fill the holes, and so he waited in the silence, patient. 

Thomas kissed his shoulder, thinking of how to put it.   
“Anyone else, Alexander, would see this dominant, power-starved part of me....” he grumbled, “And think it heinous.” 

“Thomas.” Alexander gasped, surprised that he would say something like that. Alex was speechless. Did Thomas ever have doubts about himself? Was that even a thing? Alexander listened with shock, not knowing this side of him. 

But Thomas continued.  
“They would see the bruises I inflict and call me a sadist.” Alexander was... stung by these biting words, how could Thomas think of himself as such a monster? But Thomas’s expression changed.   
“But you… YOU see the wounds, and you see art, Alexander. You see love.”   
Thomas glanced into the mirror, at his fingers on Alexander’s thighs, at those warm brown eyes, and he knew that his lover was beginning to understand. 

“You see beauty in the pain... And that’s how I know I can love you the only way I know how. I can love you without holding myself back in fear.” 

Alexander was speechless. The breath was stolen right out of his chest. He couldn’t find the words to respond to this. Had Thomas ever been so openly honest about himself, about his insecurities? Alexander didn’t know, but he knew that he wanted Thomas to feel like he never had to close off from this, that he never had to keep his insecurities away from Alexander. Never. 

Alex turned away from the mirror to face Thomas instead of his reflection. The real Thomas. And he immediately gazed up into those charcoal eyes to see… that tears were welling, up inside of them, glistening. 

Lips searching for words, Alex let his actions speak for him, taking Thomas’s hands in his own. And he carefully, slowly, placed one of his hands on each thigh, letting him feel him. Never breaking eye contact, Alexander leaned forward wrapping his own arms around Thomas’s waist. 

“You. Are not. A monster.” He spoke every word with striking clarity. Every word with baffling honesty. And now Thomas was speechless too. Alexander shook his head lightly, staring deep into the depths of those dark eyes. 

“I love every part of you. Unconditionally. No exceptions.” He shook his head. And somehow Thomas knew that he meant this as a promise. He could feel the welts under his hands where Alexander had placed them. He meant that as a promise...

“You are beautiful.” Alexander whispered the last words so quietly they were almost inaudible, but Thomas heard. The smaller pressed his head onto Thomas’s chest. And the two stayed like that for a long time, a single, silent tear falling from Thomas’s face between them, gliding unnoticed down Alexander’s thigh…

**

Geroge bent over, placing two towels at the foot of the tub and quietly walking around the edge. The gentle sound of lapping water and breathing was all that could be heard. A single candle flickered by the washbasin. He looked down into the tub to see James where he had just helped him in, blonde hair already slicked against his young face. 

He placed his hands on the edge of the tub and smiled at his fiancee, who smiled weakly back up.   
“Got soap?”   
George held up the bar as his answer, and carefully stepped in, conscious of where James was in order to not tread on him. He slipped down into the warm water, laying next to James, their bodies brushing. 

Over time, James had found it difficult to stay above the water the whole time; he’d slip down due to the slickness of the tub. Lining it with towels had been a solution for a bit, but a far too laborious one, and the final answer was one that neither minded at all. 

George leaned up against the wall of the bath, looking at James for a moment before sliding his hands around his little waist.   
“Good?” he checked again before continuing. 

James nodded as George pulled him to lay on top of his body, his chin resting on George’s shoulder. They shifted in the water until both were snug, both comfortably fitting together. James sighed at the feeling, allowing himself to relax a bit, letting the warmth take the ache from his bones. 

George knew better, however. 

He ran his fingers through James’s wet hair, water dripping out and back into the tub.   
“Still thinking about Jefferson.” he stated. James exhaled a long sigh, letting his eyes fall closed for a few moments. 

“Yes,” he admitted. George waited for him to continue, but he did not, so instead George just stayed silent, cupping some water in his hand and letting it trickle between James’s shoulder blades. He did it again absentmindedly, just watching the clear liquid bead up and slide over the smooth ribs of his lover. The ribs that shouldn't be showing. 

James rasped weakly once more, “What are we to do, George? I can’t see any way of either of us influencing this.” he tried to lift his head, but George gently held him down, with all good intent, not wanting him to work himself up. 

“I know. It is not in our hands anymore, James. I wish it could be.” He spoke evenly, letting his hand carefully come away from James’s head, and the man kept it there. And James’s wheels were still turning, nevertheless.  
He glided the soap slowly down his spine, careful not to press too hard on his back, but as soon as he let up, James’s breath hitched. George’s heart panged with sorrow, and he sat up further, water sloshing as James was hurled into another coughing fit. 

George’s heart ached painfully with every agonizing hack, racking James’s body over and over again. All George could do was hold him against his body, so fragile like he was made of paper, and squeeze his eyes shut, waiting for it to finally be over. Every cough stabbed through his chest like a serrated knife. Every cough. 

The coughing finally died down after a few minutes. And James sighed in pure exhaustion; it had taken everything out of him, drained him, and he lay limply against his lover. It was George’s job to be strong for him... but in this moment he had to seriously fight not to cry. 

“You’re right…” James rasped quietly over his shoulder, “It is out of our hands.”   
“It is.” George responded, sorrow swelling within him so much that it broke his heart, “It is up to Jefferson now.” He whispered, stroking his fingers through James’s hair over and over again, slowly. He just wanted James to feel better. Please... feel better. 

Dripping water was the only sound. 

And then James stiffened up. He stopped breathing. 

For a moment George feared the absolutely unspeakable.   
“James?” George spoke, concern heavy in his voice; he sat up more and the water sloshed in panic. And then James spoke, his voice surreal with realization. 

“It’s not up to Jefferson....” he whispered. 

George shifted James so he was sitting up in his lap, supporting his back with his hands. He looked up into James’s blue eyes, but they were gazing off elsewhere, round as marbles.   
George shook his head, “I don’t-”   
“George, what does everyone in this nation believe? What does every citizen, farmer to politician, know?” 

The President was perplexed at the vastness of the question. But James wasn’t stopping despite his blatand exhaustion. He leaned in closer to George, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.   
“That those two are enemies.” He whispered, letting George take it in. But he was still lost, shaking his head.   
“What are you on about, James?” 

“I’m saying… this very illusion makes Hamilton Jefferson’s most lethal weapon.” 

There was a pause for several beats of silence. George was beginning to understand what James was trying to say. His own eyes were widening. James placed his weak hands on George’s shoulders. 

“My love, if we could tell Hamilton to… to promote Jefferson OVER Burr, publicly. Endorse him. Everyone will know the right candidate to choose-”  
“Because Hamilton already chose for them. His enemy. Over Burr...” George finished his sentence, speaking as if he couldn’t believe what he was saying.

It had been right in front of them all along, and nobody had seen it. How could nobody have seen it; it was almost too EASY. The lovers were silent, hearts pattering in silent awe at what they had discovered, speechless. 

“James… you are brilliant.” George spoke, baffled. He shifted, carefully standing in the tub and holding James so that there was no chance of his fiancee slipping or hurting himself. 

“Darling, I believe we have a letter to write.” 

**

Alexander wobbled up onto the porch with shaky legs, like jello, and into the house. His hand trembled as he removed his hat from his head, tossing it lazily onto a plush chair as they entered the parlor. 

“That’s it, folks, show’s over.” He orated to the empty house, “Alexander Hamilton is officially the rider of the century.”   
Thomas followed, head down as he unbuttoned his riding gloves,   
“Oh yes, a spectacle, truly.” he followed along naturally, knowing to do so with Alexander’s little bits.

Alex rolled over the back of the couch and flopped onto it in exhaustion, bouncing and going limp.   
“All of the rest of you can fuck off, Hamilton takes first prize. No need for further competition.” All Thomas could see from behind the couch was his hand raise up and wave once limply, then fall back down. Comical.

“Certainly not. Proceed to the exits to fuck yourselves in an orderly fashion.”   
Thomas continued seamlessly, lowering himself daintily to the couch and placing his gloves on the table. Alexander sighed and threw himself across Thomas’s lap, laying his back over his legs. 

He closed his eyes and hummed as if he were going to sleep there.   
“What’s my prize for being better than you?” he slurred, putting his hands cockily behind his head. Thomas rubbed his belly like he would a puppy until Alexander hummed happily. What a sap.

“Actually, I have a very special prize in mind…” he purred, smirking down at Alexander. The immigrant opened his eyes to see his boyfriend’s dirty smile and obviously gained interest. He sat up, biting his lip. 

“You have my attention.” He prompted Thomas, exaggeratedly placing his hands on his shoulders. The Virginian guided Alexander’s leg so that he was straddling his dom, sitting heavily on his pelvis.   
“Very special…” Thomas breathed, not letting Alexander break eye contact as he glided his hands up under his shirt, rubbing his palms up his belly with tortuous idleness.   
“Do tell, do tell.” Alexander breathed, pleading with Thomas to spit it out, but Thomas just twirled his fingers around his hips. 

“Is it a puppy?” Alex guessed.   
“Oh no, something far better.”  
“A kitten?”  
“Ah, a man of good taste.” Thomas frowned in consideration.   
“Always known to be one.” Alexander smiled as Thomas took his bottom lip between his teeth, biting it sharply and leaving marks. Alexander squealed. 

“Come on, Thomas, what?” he laughed, unable to take it anymore.   
“I…” he breathed, brushing his thumbs lightly over Alexander’s nipples, making him gasp, “Am going to…” with one finger he made Alexander obediently lift his chin, exposing his throat for Thomas to bite. 

“Get the mail.” Thomas whispered hotly against his throat. 

Alexander paused, confused, “What?”   
Thomas pulled away, smiling lightly, and settled Alexander’s waistcoat in position, shuffling and straightening it. He patted him twice when he was satisfied. 

“You heard me, up. Mail time my sweet little dove.” Thomas peppered a quick little kiss on the tip of his nose before standing up, sending Alexander thudding on the couch, all worked up and flustered. 

“Thomas Richard Jefferson, I swear to God I will kill you in your sleep.”   
Thomas laughed, wheezing uncontrollably at the hilarity of this situation and his little prank. 

“Where the fuck did you get Richard from?” Thomas snorted, sauntering out of the room, “I don’t have a middle name, genius.” 

Alexander crossed his arms irritably over his chest, stewing in disgruntled frustration, “Oh, you do, Thomas. It’s ‘Ass Hat.”   
Thomas just laughed to himself as he walked to the entrance hall, 

“You’re taking a bath too, buddy, you smell like horses.”   
“Right back at ya, fucker.” Alexander called after his boyfriend who disappeared into the entrance hall. 

Alexander leaned back into the couch, letting himself fall into the plush with a deep, prolonged sigh, still slightly frustrated but also a little amused at his own behavior. Thomas really could work him up, couldn't he? Barely afternoon and what a Saturday. 

He Closed his eyes. It was quiet… one of those cold yet sunny days in Autumn where the outside world is slightly breezy with crisp winds… but the inside is all so still. 

Alexander exhaled shakily, nerves still a little jumpy from being on the back of that horse. But Thomas had sat in front of him, and Alexander had wrapped his arms around him the whole time with an iron grip, cheek pressed to his shoulder, even if Thomas had tried to shake him off for clinging to him like a koala. 

As Alexander let himself slip into a place of peace, he found it slightly difficult to truly find that bliss. He wished…   
The immigrant swallowed and took another deep breath. 

He wished for this last thing to be out of the way. The stupid, stupid election. As soon as Thomas won, they could just do this. Do this and be with each other without the constant reminder of fear. He folded his hands over his belly. Even being without Thomas for these few moments was beginning to make him uneasy. 

He hadn’t become dependent, as one is not DEPENDENT on wearing a waistcoat, but NOT wearing one feels wrong; it’s simply not comfortable.   
They always had to be close or touching in some way. They ate dinner so close that the sides of their thighs were pressed together. That’s just how it had grown to be. 

Alexander’s mind continued to bounce lazily from place to place, subject to subject as he drifted. A nap wouldn’t be a bad idea… especially if Thomas joined him. Just a lazy afternoon nap on the couch with his boyfriend, sun patch warming their bellies. Could anything get more perfect…? 

He became so lost in the dowsiness that he didn’t even hear Thomas enter. 

He didn’t hear his uneven, jogging footsteps as he burst into the room. Little did he know what was about to take place in their living room. 

“Alexander!” He called in a voice very uncharacteristic for him. It split through the silence like a jackhammer, jarring Alex from his lethargic state unpleasantly. The little one sprung up into a sitting position, looking around wildly with his adrenaline already kicking in. 

“What? Huh?” his eyes darted confusedly around as his muscles bunched up under him, ready to bolt if need be. He hadn’t even realized the subconscious effect this risky relationship had had on him.   
Thomas skidded to a stop in the room grabbing onto the back of a chair to halt himself, a few unopened letters careening over the top and fluttered to the floor carelessly. Alexander leapt to his feet, terrified, heart thudding madly in his chest. His mind jumped immediately to the worst conclusion. 

“Thomas, what?” Alexander raised his voice firmly, knowing he was being disrespectful, but he didn’t care if they had to run. Thomas was acting strange, and that meant he was going to act strange. Alexander craned to glance over Thomas’s shoulder but nobody was in the entrance hall. He looked pleadingly back to Thomas.

The Virginian just held up a single letter. 

The envelope had been torn open and discarded, and he waved it in the air. And... a smile broke across his face. The widest, most genuine, purest smile Alexander had seen in a long time. What was this? 

“Alexander, this… This is it.” Thomas breathed, turning it to himself and reading it silently once more, lips ghosting the words. But Alexander was still terrified, still too wrapped up in fight-or-flight to comprehend Thomas's strange reaction to this... letter? 

“What’s ‘it’?” He stepped around the table, knocking his knee painfully with a growl and limping over to Thomas. The Virginian ran a hand through his black hair, stepping away from the back of the chair. He slowly backed away, both hands cupped over his mouth. 

He couldn’t believe it.

“All this time…” he breathed to himself, eyes settling on Alexander, seeing him now through a different lens. 

The smaller cocked his head curiously.   
“Fucking WHAT?” he got frustrated, approaching the discarded letter and picking it up, unfolding it several times, crinkling and crackling as he did so. Thomas just stood in awe. Speechless. Absolutely breathless. 

Alex’s brown eyes scanned the page, doing a double take and darting back and forth over the oddly fonted words. The handwriting was small, yet in all capitals--impossible to recognize the sender. As he noticed there was no address, no signature, he realized this was on purpose... There were only four impatiently scrawled lines at the center of the page. Four lines said it all. 

“Jefferson. An endorsement is needed to guarantee you the Office. The people must see you chosen over Burr by your greatest enemy. Your love is your weapon.   
Use it wisely.   
Burn this letter on receiving. Fate be on your side.” 

And the two lovers were silent. 

Alexander hadn’t realized that his hand had slowly… gradually raised to his mouth, covering his parted lips. How… HOW could he have been so ignorant? The sheer silence was deafening, neither making the first move for a long time as Alexander read it again. And again... And again. 

An endorsement. It seemed so obvious, so EASY.  
All this time… 

He placed the letter back on the chair. Iit didn’t matter now. Didn’t matter that they had overlooked it, didn’t matter that they had been so blind. Enough time had already been given to Burr. The bastard had had it too good for too long. 

Alexander turned his sparkling eyes up to Thomas’s, joy brimming his ebony irises.   
“Thomas… don’t make me lunch, love.” Alexander spoke, a helpless grin spreading across his sly face the more he spoke, “I’ll be back from the city by eight.” 

Thomas was ecstatic, he was EUPHORIC. But he held it in within that aristocratic, aloof facade, only letting loose a smirk to match Alexander’s. They were going to win… They were going to WIN if Alexander’s pen could write them out. They were going to win... 

And if anyone’s pen was to be trusted, it was that of Alexander James Hamilton. 

“How are you going to do it?” Thomas smiled, chest rising and falling with absolute exhilaration. He locked eyes with Alexander. With the man he loved. Those warm, soft, brown eyes… 

Alex just raised his chin, straightening his cravat up against his throat. His eyes glinted with that cunning glare of fire. The fire that smoldered within them when he was going in for the kill.   
“How am I going to do it?” He repeated, grinning up at Thomas whilst he grabbed his coat from the couch, shouldering it on. “How am I going to do it?” 

He tossed his hair onto his back and opened his arms. The fire was raging now; it was crackling. He smirked, “I’m Alexander Hamilton.” 

Thomas’s heart thrummed against his ribcage, the passion starting small in his breast and growing, spreading like a fever until it filled his entire body, washing him with wave after wave of passion. It was uncontrollable, it was bursting out of him, and he was helpless. 

“Yes, you are.” Thomas breathed, and suddenly the passion was too much, so much that it was unsustainable. He stepped forward in one huge stride, taking Alexander by the face and kissing him, rough, messy. The little one was surprised for a moment, but he surged into his lover, the euphoria slamming into him at the same time. They were going to win...

Their tongues immediately collided in a dance of fire, of burning love.

“And you…” Alexander whispered into his mouth, wrapping his arms around Thomas’s waist and holding him as hard as he possibly could,

“Are going to be President-fucking-Thomas Jefferson."


	48. Jefferson Has My Vote

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOT THE END! Stay tuned in for next chapter, loves! I hope you enjoy because I cried while I was writing this one! 😭💞

Calling upon a carriage would take too long.

Alexander wanted to get his word out before the sun had started to set, before the name of Burr was too deeply rooted among the people, and every second counted. Every single tick on the clock was another vote lost. 

He and Thomas went, instead, to the stables through the crisp autumn morning to fit Alexander to one of his other horses. Thomas strode slowly down the hall, looking into each stall with careful consideration, despite Alexander’s haste. 

“Thomas…” Alexander trailed right behind him, worried desperation in his voice. Thomas just flicked his head as if Alexander was an annoying fly and turned the corner of the L-shaped barn, eyes squinted, wheels turning.  
“Shut up, Alexander, I need to do this right.” He clipped, clearly taking this seriously. 

“Do what right?” Alex turned the corner right behind him, jogging a few steps to catch up. He speed-walked beside his boyfriend, head tilted up to find his eyes, but they were too busy.   
“Tarquin’s the fastest. Just let me take Tarquin.”   
“Tarquin is sixteen hands tall, Alexander.” Thomas monotoned, slowing momentarily to consider a pinto, but kept walking. 

“And?”   
Thomas finally stopped and whirled around, Alexander nearly slamming into his tall partner. Thomas curled his lip and sneered down at Alexander, looming over him to emphasize his point. 

“And you’re five foot six.” He snarled and whipped away again and continued his hasty stride. Alexander stood in shock for a moment, watching Thomas go on before shoving his hands in his pockets grumpily and mumbled under his breath, “And a half…”   
He padded after Thomas.

Finally, they made their way to the very end and Thomas stopped. Peeking into the final stall, his dark eyes darted around, catching sight of the animal and lighting up.   
“Perfect.” he spoke as if to himself, moving forward to slide the bar out of the door and swing it open. Alexander just stood there awkwardly, unsure of what to do, Thomas was a all up in his own head when it came to his horses and left Alexander high and dry and not sure what the fuck was going on. 

“Uhh, so should I just….” Alexander trailed off when nobody was listening, lifting on his tiptoes to try and crane to the corner where Thomas was busy. 

And then he led forth a small yet elegant pony that was as pale as the full moon in January.  
Thomas caught sight of Alexander staring there and gaping. The animal was far more austere than any other he had ever laid eyes on... And as soon as those dark eyes of the horse met with his… there was almost a breathtaking connection, like they were looking into each other instead of at. 

Long lashes and delicate legs, the animal was unlike any sort of brute Alexander had previously ridden. He must have been gaping because Thomas’s brows furrowed, annoyed.   
“Well don’t just stand there like an idiot.” he sneered, snapping Alexander back from his surreal state, “Do something.” 

Alex blinked, “Yeah. Right. Tack.” he clipped, turning the wrong way at first to the tack room. He thought he knew what to get as he shuffled through the organized pegs of leather and harnesses. 

“Saddle… girth… bridle…” He mumbled, frantically collecting everything and draping it heavily over an arm, small frame weighed down by all the gear. He snagged a black saddle pad before lumbering back to Thomas, who had hooked the pony up by the halter. 

“Here. All the stuff.” he panted, breathless as he set it laboriously on top of the stall door, arms aching.   
“Good.” Thomas sniffed, taking the saddle pad and saddle in one and fitting it firmly atop the pale beauty’s back, shuffling it up to its withers. Alexander watched, still mesmerized by the shy animal, who was timidly inching away from Thomas as much as it could. 

Alex’s eyes softened. 

“What’s its name?”   
“Mm?" Thomas grumbled, "Thought you didn’t care about horses.” he mumbled, bent over as he buckled the girth snugly around its belly. Alexander shrugged, smoothly handing Thomas the bridle as soon as he needed it. 

“I don’t. Just thought if I’m gonna ride it I should know.” he shrugged as if indifferent. Thomas’s eyes glistened playfully as he took the bridle from Alexander’s hand, lips twitching into a knowing smirk. He knew when Alexander cared about something but just wanted to look too tough to say it. The man shook his head fondly, turning back around to un-halter the horse and slip the bridle over its shy head. 

“Morelle.” He spoke in a deep French accent, allowing Alexander to translate better. He cocked his head, leaning against the stall wall. 

“Nightshade.” Alex translated, tone inflecting upwards at the end as if it were a question. Thomas nodded, pulling Alexander around to the side of the white horse to measure for stirrup length.   
“Nightshade. An ironic name given to her by an elegant French breeder of high esteem.”   
“Of course.” Alex snorted as Thomas held the stirrup up against his arm, getting an approximate length and adjusting the holes. The pony didn’t shy away or spook this time… just turned her head and looked at Alexander with those round, black eyes. 

He nodded.  
“She’s pretty shy, so be gentle...” 

He trailed off as he watched Alexander run a hand along the firm, arched neck, the pony not even flinching. Alexander’s face was calm and casual as he just rubbed his palm up her neck to scratch behind her ears. Thomas smiled and shook his head in bewildered surprise.   
“Or not.” he laughed. Alexander looked back at him and smiled too. 

“I think I like her.”  
“Well." Thomas crossed his arms, smiling like the proud boyfriend he was, "I think she likes you.” he concurred, making Alexander smile like a happy little puppy and positively glow as he rubbed his hand up and down her nose, gazing into those milky black eyes. 

“You don’t like that big bad bully, huh?” Alexander pouted to her, sticking out his bottom lip. This guy.  
Thomas rolled his eyes and crossed his arms in exasperation. Asshole.   
“You want me to make him go away? Is that what you want my little princess?” 

Thomas sighed, “Alright, we’re done here.” he swooped in, hooking an arm playfully around Alexander’s waist and reeled him over to Morelle’s side. Alexander made a little hurt noise, twisting to look up at Thomas.   
“Hey. Excuse me.” he forced Thomas’s eyes down on him, placing his hands up on his shoulder, “Real bonding going on here. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” 

Thomas shook his head, lips parted in a light smile as he leaned down eight inches to give Alexander a deep kiss on the lips. Alexander immediately sighed and melted at the feeling, drawing closer to Thomas and pressing his body against his lover’s. Thomas reached inside Alexander's coat and wrapped his arms warmly around his little waist, pulling him close against his body, fitting him to his frame like a puzzle piece. And suddenly it was all too much, and it just hit him like an icy wave of slush. He squeezed him.

“Be safe, Alexander.” He whispered, pressing his face into Alexander’s neck and breathing in his hair, eyes squeezed shut with bittersweet anxiety. Alex laughed.   
“Literally just a ride to the city, dork.”  
Thomas shrugged. “Yeah but you worry me.”   
“Aww.” Alexander cooed, patting the top of his head and patronizing him.   
“Shut up.” Thomas didn’t let Alexander go on and embarrass him anymore, just kissed and rocked him slightly as he squeezed him a little too tight, but Alexander didn’t mind. They breathed against each other’s faces, not bothering to stop for any air. 

This was nice, Alexander decided, breaking off to bury his head in Thomas’s chest and just rest there. He could stay like this, he decided, all wrapped up and warm against the chilly morning. Thomas just held him, head resting on top of Alexander’s like he was so fond of doing, and softly rocked them. 

Eventually, Thomas broke away with a sigh, well aware that Alexander had to go before they ran out of time. Thomas held his little boyfriend by the shoulders and placed him at arm's length, eyes sweeping him up and down. Alex just observed the way Thomas looked at him. So raw, so nakedly in love. 

Thomas straightened Alexander’s coat and then smoothed down his hair for him, tucking it behind his ears.   
“Be safe.” he cupped his cheek and brushed a thumb over his cheekbone before letting his hand fall back to his side as if slightly embarrassed that he was acting this way.   
“You already said that, weirdo.” Alexander smiled, turning to lift one foot into the stirrup.  
“I know.” Thomas nodded matter-of-factly and placed his hands on Alexander’s ass and squeezing, “I also know that you’re an ignorant little prick most of the time.”   
“Ha.” 

Thomas helped hoist him on top of Morelle, until he sat heavily in the saddle, wiggling his hips into position. He found the reins and set his hands on the withers, looking down at Thomas with a sly little smirk. 

“Any chance to touch my ass, Thomas.” he spoke, amused, “I see you.” he squinted suspiciously.   
Thomas scoffed and rolled his eyes, turning away to unlock the stall door for him.   
“Get out of here, jackoff.” Thomas scolded playfully, slapping Morelle’s rump for her to start walking. Alexander laughed and glided past him, significantly more comfortable and well-fit on the pony. 

“I’ll be back.” he called over his shoulder, starting to trot in the stable even though he knew Thomas clearly disapproved.   
“Not too soon.” He grumbled sarcastically.   
“I love you!” Alexander called one last time, turning the bend. Thomas could still hear him, so he knew Alexander could hear him too, even over the clopping of hooves and the whistling, cool, fall breeze.   
“I love you too.” he called. The words got truer and truer every time he spoke them, he thought as he watched Alexander disappear with nothing but a rustling gust of autumn breeze, blowing in a few, scattered leaves around his feet. 

And then he was alone.

**

Burr sat alone and watched the smoke curl up into the crisp autumn night. It roiled and then vanished against the hazy, velvet sky, drifting over the rooftops in the steady, chilling breeze. He waited a few moments after it disappeared in the silence, far… far above the noises of the city street. And then he took another long draw of his cigar. 

It was so quiet out there, above it all. And he could see the vast spread of the downtown, flickering candles in windows and the telling glow of lanterns on the hidden streets. Black carriages passed as just a glimpse of movement in the dark. The slow moving, leisurely sense of nighttime lull was settling over the city. 

And yet Burr could feel the lingering thread of suspense curling around his cold heart. Even as lonely people passed below, Burr had taken a break from his work to watch the city… the city that was awaiting his every word with rapture, awaiting his every word as though he were the messiah. And it felt... pleasing. 

The man sighed, shifting stiffly in his chair and flicking a bit of ash off the end of his cigar, letting his arm rest lazily on the side. He sniffed whilst he watched the puff of smoke haze his view of the city for a few moments, curling into the darkness. 

Is this what Alexander felt like, he wondered? He licked his lips and deeply closed his eyes, leaning back and letting the feeling wash over him and through him, engulfing and reverberating in his bones. Is this what Jefferson felt like? A smirk tugged at the corners of his lips around the cigar, taking another draw. If so, he had been sorely missing out for far too long. Burr remained with his eyes closed, resting in his chair. 

Downstairs, Burr barely even heard his door groan open and swing closed in his kitchen, the sound of someone hastily wiping off their feet on the rug. He just sighed, taking in the cool night air as heavy boots clunked up his steps with considerable haste. He flicked more ash off his cigar. So quiet in the city… 

The doorknob behind him jiggled once and then turned, someone falling out onto the porch with two clunks to signify boots.   
Burr didn’t even turn his head or open his eyes. He knew who it was just by the high-pitched breathing, and knew nothing could be wrong tonight. 

“William.” he drawled boredly, folding his hands over his resting belly. The boy, William P. Van Ness stood behind him, unsure if he should step around to the front. He stood there for a few moments in nervous indecision and panted, hunched over to nurse a stitch in his side from running so far so quickly. 

The boy was disheveled, a lanky little fellow with constant growing pains in his gangly limbs. His long blonde hair gave him a wispy, faint appearance along with his wide blue eyes. His hair was now spilled frizzly over his shoulders, his cravat half undone with breathlessness. He gasped for air, trying to choke out the first few words. 

“A-Aaron.” he wheezed, hand on knee. Burr laid leisurely, setting his cigar lethargically down in the ashtray. He exhaled a long, exhausted sigh.   
“Yes?” he drawled. 

There was just some more breathing.   
And then crackling of parchment. That is what got Burr’s attention.   
Those dark eyes flickered open, glinting ominously in the pale moonlight. 

He slowly, slowly turned his head around. 

His lanky friend raised his own head. The eyes that were usually round had another added factor. Burr’s heart lurched in his chest. The boy blinked. It was terror. 

A cold rush of adrenaline made Aaron Burr’s spine prickle uncomfortably. An uneasiness he did not usually feel. 

“What is it, William?” he commanded, voice void of any sympathy or compassion that he reserved for his speeches. He spoke now with his usual inflections. Cold, slimy, information-seeking. Van Ness’s lips were parted and white, his face drained of color as he produced the piece of parchment he was holding, unable to produce words in its place. 

“Sir… tomorrow’s article… leaked from the press not two hours ago… sir…” he gasped, extending it towards Burr who was already on it, snatching the crisp, mint-condition paper from his hands, fumbling for his glasses. 

Burr’s charisma had completely washed away, replaced now by unveiled panic. Before he had even gotten his glasses on, he could see the name in the bold title… HAMILTON. 

William watched with icy, hopeless dread as Burr struggled to messily place his glasses on his face, all prudence cast aside and abandoned. The boy swallowed, heart pattering desperately against his ribs. 

And he watched. 

He watched from behind the parchment as Burr’s face slowly fell. Slowly drained of any color and his lips fell apart. His lungs fluttered as his eyes darted faster over the contents, hands grappling the page and pulling it closer. 

He watched as Burr’s breath caught in his throat. As his face turned stony as ice. 

And he let the paper slowly slip from between his fingers and fall to the floor.   
William didn’t know much; he’d never credited himself with so, but he knew… defeat when he saw it. 

Burr’s hands lowered slowly to his sides, eyes focused, glazed over on some far off point in the city... far... far out in the city. The breeze blew the parchment over once, sending it tumbling over at William’s feet. Even in the hazy darkness of night, he could read the title as well as anyone could. 

HAMILTON ENDORSES POLITICAL ENEMY, THOMAS JEFFERSON AS PRESIDENT OVER AARON BURR  
“...JEFFERSON HAS MY VOTE.” 

Burr’s face remained turned to the city. He did not speak. He could hardly find it in himself to breathe.   
The breeze lifted the parchment once again, sending it twirling lazily into the air and off the edge of the porch, fluttering and spinning over the quiet rooftops of New York City. 

“...Sir…?” William spoke softly, voice wavering with uncertainty.   
And Burr did not answer. 

**

By five o'clock that morning, the paper was on every doorstep, in every mailbox across the state, its yellow pages and corners jutting from every imaginable place. Paper boys sold it for a penny at every newsstand, calling out into the noisy streets.   
“Get your latest news, gents! All of the electoral news!” 

The paper could be seen sticking out of pockets and stuck to the sides of carriages. It was pinned and nailed to tavern doors and tumbled down the streets, accompanying the bright foliage of autumn leaves. Ladies read it to each other in hushed little huddles, whispering as if it were a dirty secret, gentlemen discussed it boisterously with each other, waving their hands and orating their approval and concerns. 

With a silent hand over her mouth, Eliza slowly stood back up. Her wide eyes glistened whilst she stared… stared at what her mind was comprehending. She turned quietly back into the house, closing the door behind her. Her hand never left her mouth. 

John Laurens tore it off of a nail on his way to work, changing directions on a dime and breaking into a jog that turned into a sprint, heart bursting out of his chest as a smile broke across his face. He pumped his fist in the air and whooped. Right there in the busy street, not bothering to hold it in as he took one great celebratory leap. To Lafayette’s house. And then to Hercules’s. His eyes squeezed shut in pure, fierce JOY and he whooped again, not even caring, listening to it echo up to the rooftops. Shouting it to the rooftops, running down the long, narrow street, paper billowing behind him. 

George Washington padded quietly up the stairs, running a hand along the pretty, sanded wooden railing he had put in there himself for James a few years past. He let it guide him, not wanting to miss as step as he read. And reread. And reread once again. 

The President slowly turned the corner into their bedroom where James was sleeping, too sick to lift his head that day. He had good days and bad days, yes. And today was one where he was going to need George by his side. And that was okay. 

“George?” A weak voiced rasped from somewhere within the mountain of blankets when he had entered. George stepped quietly up to the side of their shared bed, eyes sweeping over his fiancee. He looked so small, all wrapped up. So pale too, even though George had started a fire not five minutes ago. 

He kneeled beside him, pressing a deep kiss on his white lips. And he didn’t come up.   
As a tear fell from George’s face onto James’s, he didn’t come up. For a long time. 

And then he was smiling, finding James’s weak, cold hands and wrapping them in his own, placing the parchment right before James where he could see it with ease.   
“They did it.” he grinned, letting the feeling slam into him, wash over him in a deluge of emotion, “They did it.” he spoke again, fumbling with James’s hands so that they were pressed against his heart. He couldn't contain himself... he wanted to shout it over the city, hear it echo. 

Those soft blue eyes were half closed as they scanned the page, once and then twice. And three times.   
The smile that grew on his face was strained, it was difficult, but it was there. It could not be stopped as it bloomed, glowing as if uncontrollable. 

“I know… I know my love.” George laughed loudly, positively childlike in his giddiness. He wanted to leap up and down, to punch his fist in the air, it was so difficult to contain. So difficult to contain. 

And then James’s smile broke, and he buried his face in George’s shoulder. 

He broke down, curling up and falling apart. He made no sound as he shook, trembling against George. He was silent, weakly shaking against him. The President realized that he was weeping. Weeping on his shoulder him in genuine, unhidden relief. The pure exhaustion that lifted off of him in that moment… It was over. 

George wrapped his arms around James and he was weeping too. They rocked against each other silently by the bed, neither saying a word. 

It was finally… finally done.   
As the whispers spread on the streets, as the paperboys sold the news… the President and the Congressman remained in the silence. 

They had won….   
It was finally time. 

George held James against him so close, sniffling and rocking him as they wept together. Eyes squeezed shut against James’s blonde hair, he could almost see it… almost see the apple orchard. 

It was time… yes. Tears leaked down his face and onto James’s. 

It was time to go home…


	49. By All Means

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few more chapters left, loves! Thank you so much for sticking with me! I love and appreciate all of your comments and support, and I hope with all of my heart that everyone is staying healthy ❤️

“William--no--WILLIAM.” Thomas placed baby Ann on Alexander’s lap and leapt from his seat, speed walking with a purpose to the other side of the room, arms extended to pluck a toddler from the entrance hall. 

With a grunt, he lifted him up and bounced him on a hip, holding him with one arm as he extracted a silver candlestick from his pudgy little hand.   
“We do not…” he grunted, straining with the toddler in his arms to set the candlestick back down on the table, “Put Uncle TJ's things in our mouths.” he spoke and turned back towards the Parlor where Alexander was bouncing three-month-old Ann on a knee and cradling a newborn Nathaniel carefully in his lap. He smiled up at Thomas. 

“Candlestick again?” he mused. Thomas exhaled with puffed out cheeks, exhausted.   
“The candlesticks. Always the candlesticks. What is it with this weirdo and the candlesticks?” he spoke exasperatedly, but still pressed his forehead to William’s as if asking him and waiting for a serious answer. Alex laughed again.  
“Beats me.”   
“I’m with ya.” Thomas sighed, placing the child back down to watch him run around on his little tater tot legs. Thomas kept an eye on that one and settled back down in a chair, carefully taking Nathaniel from Alexander and wrapping him up in the blanket that had slipped off a bit. 

Alexander just watched him… not able to possibly help the glowing smile that spread across his face. Okay, he hadn’t been a baby person--ever. Not a tiny bit until he met all of Thomas’s nieces and nephews. And he didn’t think Thomas could POSSIBLY be one, never in this world, not a chance. But as soon as all the relatives arrived two days ago, Alexander was shocked to find just how GOOD Thomas was with kids. 

And now… watching him take care of them… he couldn’t put it into words. Thomas just lit up, and when Thomas was lit up, Alexander was too by nature. The latter set down Ann to play on the floor with her twin sister, Catherine, monitoring them carefully at his feet. Alexander leaned back with a sigh, just watching Thomas hold the baby. 

Wanting to politely give their hosts some alone time and to get out of the house without the babies, the Jefferson girls, their mother, and one brother had all gone out to the city for a day to see the sights they didn’t usually get to see, being Virginians. Randolph had been hard to convince--what seventeen-year-old boy wants to go shopping with his sisters?--but Thomas had finally gotten him out of the house and away from Alexander, whom he’d been doting on the entire two days since the moment they arrived. 

Thomas's family knew about Thomas's preferences for men. But they didn't know about Alexander. Alex was the one who had convinced Thomas to bring his family to the house like he always did for Christmas, even though he was living there now. He didn't mind being seen, he WANTED to be seen. 

Now it was just Alexander, Thomas, and the babies. William and Nathaniel belonged to the oldest sibling, Jane, and Catherine and Ann belonged to the second oldest, Mary. Babysitting was a task that Alexander would groan at last year, but now, sitting in the heavily perfumed, pine scented room warmed by two crackling fireplaces, there was nothing he would rather do. 

Thomas was never more vibrant and wondrous than he was at Christmas time, Alexander had discovered. Before his family had come, they had spent weeks decorating, starting the DAY after Thanksgiving. Yes, he was one of THOSE people. 

Any possible place where there could be piny, silver and gold weaved tinsel and thick garlands, there was tinsel and garlands. Any place where loads of holly and mistletoe could be spilled, there were heaps. Wreaths adorned every single door and window, woven with holly berries and pinecones little silver bells. On every mantle, ever little nook and cranny, carved santas and minty candy canes and toy sleighs and a vast amount of other trinkets had been placed. And the tree was another story. 

A whole three day process just to pick out the correct tree for the parlor. And when they had finally hoisted it into the house with the help of a sleigh on Tarquin, decorating it was an almost sacred process done by the whole family. Alexander had tried to put on the star before the final ornament had been placed on, and he'd nearly been disowned for doing so. His mistake. 

By the time they were finished and ready for Christmas Eve later that night, the tree looked magnificent. Hardly an inch of pine was showing anymore, but the scent was heavy and warm in every room of the house. Ornaments adorned every possible place, golden tinsel and red satin ribbons wrapped around it again and again. They had to play guard in order to not let the children tear apart the heaping of colorful present boxes with neat little bows under the tree. 

“Is it snowing again?” Thomas squinted over Alexander’s shoulder at the beautiful bay windows, rocking Nathan carefully in his arms. Alex glanced over his shoulder to see the fat, white flakes descending from the gray skies, falling silently into the snowbanks. 

He smiled and looked back over to Thomas.  
“Yeah, is now.” he pushed a soft yarn doll closer to Catherine that she had accidentally kicked away.   
“They’ll be back soon if it’s snowing.” Alex noted, looking back up to Thomas, who was just staring at him. Alex cocked his head at the perplexing, content look.   
“Why’re you giving me a face?” Alex grunted. 

Thomas just shook his head, shuffling to better support Nathan’s head.   
“Oh, I’m not.” he answered, bouncing his knee to get just a bit of rocking motion on the newborn, “I just think it’s cute when you pretend you don’t like the babies.” 

Alexander gaped at him for a moment, jaws parted. He scoffed at Thomas, placing an offended hand on his chest.   
“I’ll have you know that I despise children.”   
“Bet you do.”   
“Yeah. Little human larvae.” Alex wrinkled up his nose and tried to hold back a smile as William ran around to his side of the chair and bumped into his leg. 

Thomas snorted in lofty amusement as William motioned for Alex to pick him up and exclaimed.   
“Uncle Sander!” Alex bent over and picked him up under the armpits, groaning as he did so.   
“See?” He spoke to Thomas, who was gaping at him, “Nearly no linguistic prowess whatsoever.” 

“Alexander…” Thomas breathed, eyes still wide as Alex bounced Will on his thigh. Alexander looked up to see the look on his face. 

“He just called you Uncle Sander.”   
Alex paused, blanking. He made a face.  
“Huh?”

Thomas rolled his head back in exasperated frustration.   
“Alex, he said your name, fuckwit.”   
Alexander gasped exaggeratedly at the curse word and covered Will’s ears, who was busily engaged with clambering over and playing with Alex’s cravat.   
“This kid’s gonna crush my balls.” 

“Alexander. You don’t get it.” Thomas spoke clearly, trying to get Alexander’s attention back. He laughed, “He SAID your NAME.” 

Alex plucked off Will who was pulling at his ponytail, and set the squirming three-year-old back onto his lap, not even looking up at Thomas as he tickled him.  
“Thomas I’m a little concerned that we’ve been dating since July and you think my name is Sander.” 

“For God’s sake, dipshit.” Thomas sighed in exhaustion, “Really gotta spell it out? Sander. Xander. Alexander.” he spoke as if he were trying to explain it to someone of Will's age, not Alexander’s. Finally, Alex’s face lit up in recognition, looking down at the wiggling toddler then back up to his boyfriend. 

“Is that what he’s saying?” He marvelled, holding Will at arm’s length and sweeping him with his eyes as if he was the most fascinating invention he had ever laid eyes upon.   
“Yes, honey, that’s what he’s saying.” Thomas snorted, shaking his head in fond annoyance and returning to make sure Nathan was comfortable. 

“Hey Will, buddy, say it again.” he asked, not even knowing how to talk to toddlers, “Sander.”  
“Uncle Sander.” 

Alex paused.   
“Not uncle yet. Just sander.”   
“No, Uncle Sander!” Will persisted, pressing in for a hug that surprised Alexander, wrapping his pudgy little arms around Alex’s neck. He hesitated, unsure of what to do before folding his arms around the little boy.

Alex looked over Will’s shoulder at Thomas, who’s happy dark eyes were darting over the two of them. He knew that Alexander knew what he was thinking. The unspoken suggestion that Alexander was an uncle to this boy was sinking into his head. 

“....Thomas?” Alexander began, but he was cut off by the sound of many voices in the entrance hall. 

They echoed further into the warm house. The family was back. 

“Get--GO, you’re letting the snow in.”   
“You’re the one blocking the door with your fat ass.”   
“Betesy!”   
“You’re stepping on my satchel, Anna.”   
“Am not.”  
“Where’s Lucy. Oh! Lucy darling, come--no--take those off. That too. And you, Randy.” 

Alexander set will down on his knee, bouncing him up and down playfully as he awaited the entrance of Thomas’s little crew. Thomas was craning over his own shoulder to peek at the entrance hall, which Alex couldn’t see. 

“They’re back.”  
“You don’t say.” Alex laughed, gently scooting Ann back to her place next to Catherine at his feet when she had crawled a bit too far. The sound of clunking boots falling to the floor by the door and rustling fabric sounded, getting closer as everyone approached. 

Alexander felt something deep within his bosom stir, and he had to struggle to hold down this defenseless sort of smile. A house filled with family… it was something he’d… never truly experienced yet. Only now had he realized what he’d been missing, and the aspects of it that annoyed Thomas, Alexander couldn’t get enough of. His heart beat more and more zealously with every approaching footfall. 

The older women came in first with a rustling of gowns, Thomas’s mother who was a tall, thin woman whom he certainly gained his cooking skills from, with Jane and Mary whose hair was still sprinkled with white snow, their cheeks rosy with the cold. 

“How were the babies?” Mary inquired with the warmest smile her numb cheeks could allow. Alexander returned the smile, covered in children.   
“Angelic, a disposition they surely inherited from their mother.” Alexander flattered in his deepest voice, earning him a silent gagging impression from Thomas across the room. Alex just winked at him. 

Mary put a hand to her chest and walked towards him, kneeling to pick up Catherine and Ann, one in each arm. Her warm green eyes blinked up at Thomas.   
“You are quite the charmer, Mr. Hamilton. I do envy my dear brother as of late.”   
Alexander laughed, casting another sly glance over Mary to Thomas who was still pretending not to vomit. 

“I’m sure he has his complaints.”   
“Oh, do I…” Thomas growled, scowling at the two with a twinkle of lightheartedness in his dark eyes. 

Alexander groaned exaggeratedly at the weight of William, setting him back on his feet as Jane entered. She had the height of her mother, unlike Mary, and she was the one that struck Alexander the most from the moment she had arrived two days ago. Because she was the one that looked ASTOUNDINGLY like Thomas. The only one.   
Even Randolph had his differences. But with Jane, it was just so STRIKING.

The only thing those two had different was their gender, yes, but also something that Thomas had unique from the entire family. His deep brown eyes, almost black. Everyone else had green like their mother, and Alexander just knew without having to ask that Thomas had his father’s eyes… 

“Oh, thank you so much, Alexander.” Jane sighed exhaustedly to him, putting on a huge smile and extending her arms excitedly as Will ran towards her on his stubby little legs.   
“Lord knows I needed that break.” She spoke with wide eyes and a nod, hugging will against her leg. Alex frowned and waved a hand at her. 

“Anytime, really.” he shrugged, “We had our fun. How’s the city today?”   
“Full.” Betsey grumbled with an eye roll, tossing a satchel onto the couch and flopping down, exhausted. 

She had entered third, her short, dark hair spilling freely to just brush the tops of her shoulders. It was amazing, Alex marvelled, how each of his siblings seemed to embody a different characteristic of Thomas. And Betsey was definitely his cynical, snarky, asshole side. But she was sharp, and Alex had taken to her from the get-go for the challenge of debate that they both enjoyed. 

“Full, eh?” Alex followed up. She sighed, rolling her head back.   
“So many morons buying a last minute piece of crap for their Aunt Betty that showed up uninvited Christmas Eve.” She concocted the scenario, making Alexander chuckle. Lucy had already entered the room at the same time as her sister, her wide, intelligent eyes focused on a crisp looking hardcover whilst she expertly auto-piloted herself to the couch. Her shoulders were slightly damp from melted snow. 

“New read?” Alexander stood, strolling up to sit next to Betsey and Lucy on the couch. Lucy looked up at him and gave him a quiet nod.   
“The Vicar of Wakefield.”  
“Ah, Oliver Goldsmith.”   
She found his eyes again with a light smile on her young, pretty face. She had Thomas’s dark, sharp brows.   
“Yeah.”  
“Good choice.” 

Thomas’s mother flurried into the room, bringing an authoritative energy, trying to keep track of all her kids. Jane and Mary were warming by the fire, and her eyes swept the parlor, taking inventory and silently mouthing their names with her lips until she fell on her son. 

“Ah, Thomas.” She stepped towards him, gliding smoothly up behind his chair and leaning down to press a wet kiss to his cheek. He grimaced, trying to shy away.   
“Ma…” he complained, embarrassed. Alexander’s heart melted in his chest. Positively melted.

“How were the babies.”   
“Good, good--stop it, Ma, go bother Jane.” He grumbled, leaning forward to stand stiffly from where he’d been sitting for a while. Thomas’s mother just rolled her eyes, rubbing her old, dry hands together to warm them.   
“Oh, I’ve done enough of that already.” she winked over at Alexander who smiled so wide his wisdom teeth had to be showing. How could a bunch of strangers make him feel this way? And so quickly.   
“My old bones are chilled to the marrow…” She mumbled, shuffling off towards the fire as well. 

Everyone seemed to settle in a bit, the mothers reacquainting with their children and warming themselves while Alex read over Lucy’s shoulder with her permission. 

“My favorite brother!” A boisterous voice resonated through the warm parlor.

Heads turned and eyes rolled as Randolph drifted in with his arms wide open, a smug grin spread across his handsome face, pace matched to the footfall by his identical twin Anna. Oh God, here they go again. Thomas’s eyes darted naturally to Alexander and then up to Randolph. 

“And my least.” Thomas responded playfully, wapping Randolph and Anna into an aggressive hug so tight that they both groaned, squirming away. Alexander laughed from his place; he was familiar with that one. 

Randolph must have heard him laugh because he managed to finally break free from his brother and turn towards Alex, smoothing back his hair. Randolph was an extremely handsome boy of seventeen, mature-looking for his age with sharp cheekbones and brows. He looked like Thomas, but Randolph had a shorter, perkier, more upturned nose that gave him a more boyish appearance, and his hair was much longer than Thomas’s--about Alexander’s shoulder-length. Like his brother, there was never an occasion that didn’t require top-notch tailor-fitted formalwear. And he paraded his attractive frame in dashing waistcoats like Thomas because he was handsome and he KNEW it.

The boy’s green eyes sparkled charmingly whilst he reached inside his slim overcoat, producing an elegant bundle of white flowers. Alexander glanced at the standing Thomas with a wide grin and then back to Randolph, who sauntered up to him with a smug, self-confident look on his face. 

He bent down over Alexander, taking his hand in his own and raising it to his face.  
“Stunning Snowdrops, Alexander, for the most stunning man of the house.” he winked just between the two of them and kissed Alexander’s hand slowly, placing the Snowdrops in the other. 

Alexander laughed out loud, smelling them.   
“Thanks buddy.” He mumbled into the bundle squinting at Thomas over the flowers in a playful ‘beat that, Thomas’ sort of way. Thomas snorted a short scoff and shook his head. Randolph just ignored him and lowered himself to the couch right next to Alexander. 

“We had quite the day in the city, Alex.” he yawned in exhaustion, stretching his arms above his head, “I must tell you all about it.” He finished his yawn and let his arm fall back down across Alexander’s shoulders smoothly. Aaaaand Thomas had had enough. 

“Alright, I think I’m gonna sit riiiiiight here. Yep. Perfect.” 

Thomas wiggled and wedged his ass right between Alex and Randolph, lifting up Randolph’s arm with two fingers like it was filth and laying his own arm possessively over his boyfriend, brushing him off as if he’d been touched by vermin. 

“There we go, nice and cozy.” he sighed contently, shuffling down so that Alexander could snuggle up against him, tilting his head up to receive a deep kiss from Thomas. Alex complied, letting his boyfriend press hard into his mouth and close on it.   
The Virginian’s eyes were open the whole time, looking over at Randolph and twitching a brow challengingly. The younger just mocked his face, crossed his arms and dug a toe into the carpet, grumbling to himself. 

“Showoff…” he murmured under his breath, disgruntled. 

“Randy, leave poor Alexander alone.” Mary called over her shoulder, entertaining Catherine and Ann in her lap.  
“I’m not bothering him.” Randolph complained back, sticking his tongue out at her while Alex wasn’t watching.   
“Yes, Randy. You are.” Lucy concurred quietly, not lifting her eyes from her book, and Randolph reached his foot over to kick her foot in mild annoyance. 

Alexander’s heart was reaching its brim of joy, nearing its complete capacity. He felt… this felt like…

There was a sigh from near the bay window where Mrs. Jefferson was shuffling through some games and trinkets inside of a cabinet.   
“A game of whist, anyone?” She offered, holding up a deck of cards.   
“I’m in.” Anna agreed, grabbing Randolph’s hand and dragging him away from Thomas and Alexander.   
“Me too. Betsey?”   
“Fine.” 

Soon everyone was making their way to the dining room, on which the grand middle of the table was adorned with wite velvet representing snow and tiny carved houses and sleighs, depicting a winter village on Christmas Eve. So everyone would have to crowd at one end to play. 

“Thomas, Alexander,” Jane addressed them quietly as she walked by, toggling Will in her path and Nathan in her arms, “Why don’t you two get some alone time? You deserve it.”

“Thanks Janie.” Thomas leaned in to place a soft kiss on Nathan’s forehead, almost knowing that she was going to offer them that, expecting it. Alexander wanted to spend time with the family, but there had been and would be PLENTY of time for that. He needed his Thomas time; that was for sure. 

“Were the guests coming over for dinner?” Jane followed up curiously. Thomas shrugged as they turned away, speaking as he walked backwards.   
“No guests. They’re coming over tomorrow morning for presents and breakfast.” She nodded and continued into the room as Will tugged her along. 

Thomas and Alexander turned in the opposite direction, heading towards his bedroom. As they padded away, the sounds and shouts of the family faded behind them, two arguing over the rules and the scraping of chairs being pulled up to the end of the table. 

Thomas held the door open for Alexander as they arrived in the bedroom. The smaller sighed a deep sigh, clunking over to the dresser where they’d placed a vase the previous day to put all the flowers Randolph was bringing back for Alexander. Alex worked the Snowdrops into the cramped space. 

“Getting a little crowded in there, don’t you think?” Alex squinted, cocking his head at the flower arrangement.   
“Swear to God, Thomas, if your horny brother doesn’t stop bringing me flowers soon, we might have a--”

Alexander turned around but was quickly cut off by an impact like a freight train to a butterfly. In one whirling movement, he was smacked to the wall and pinned to it with Thomas’s face, his mouth ravaging Alexander’s like his last meal. 

Alex yelped a surprised, “MMPH!” And his knees buckled at the immediate, overwhelming rush of heat to his belly, nearly knocking him over with power. Six months, and every single time it got even easier for Thomas to wreck him, for Thomas to make a mess out of him. Thomas didn’t neglect any part of him, digging his nails deeply into Alexander’s hips and slamming them against the wall, grinding deeply and roughly against them in his hands. 

“Ooh…” Alexander breathed, panting wetly into Thomas’s open mouth that was violently exploring his own, “Feisty, are we?” He spoke around Thomas’s tongue that was lapping over and over again at the roof of his mouth.   
“Territorial.” Thomas corrected with a deep growl, slamming his hips onto Alexander’s holding him there and moving his hands to bunch up the shoulders of his coat, digging his nails in and ripping it off his frame. In one movement, he yanked it down his arms and onto the floor like a rag. 

Alexander only responded by moaning deeply into his mouth, grinding back against him and using Thomas’s shoulders as leverage. The larger’s hand immediately darted down and shoved between them, cupping Alexander’s clothed cock and pressing roughly until it was painful. He squealed and whimpered, and he got hard right there in Thomas’s hand which didn’t help the pain. Soon he was squirming against the pressure. 

“God, I wish I could fuck you…” Thomas whispered dirtily, licking at Alexander’s chin and then back into his mouth. The two of them had been so deprived for the past two days that it had grown unbearable. They’d only been left alone once and that was to babysit, so their sex life had been abruptly interrupted. 

“Please…” Alexander whimpered pitifully as Thomas kneaded and pawed at his cock, watching him jerk around helplessly. The taller just smiled and pulled away, stepping back to observe his little boyfriend. 

All Alexander could do was lean up against the wall, coat at his feet, hair a wreck, hard as fuck and just pant like a thirsty dog. Alexander swallowed, running a shaky hand through his hair. 

“Fuck…” he trailed off, shifting his legs uncomfortably under him. Thomas’s dark eyes darted from his hardness to his face, twitching one of those sharp brows. Alexander scowled at him, annoyed. 

“Can we go somewhere? Upstairs?” He scoffed irritably, gesturing at Thomas with a frustrated hand.   
Thomas coolly shook his head, “I’m not screwing in one of their rooms. That’s fucked up.” 

“Well okay how about we go down to the lake.”   
“It’s snowing mountains out there, beach-boy.”   
“Stables?”  
“Also fucked up.”  
“Well then fuck.” Alexander let his hands fall angrily to his sides, pushing off the wall to step towards the bed. Thomas watched him, all hot and bothered. 

He flopped down on the bed, kicking off his shoes and letting them clunk to the floor. And unfortunately, nothing turned Thomas on more than seeing his boyfriend sexually frustrated, so that just raised more frustration on his end. The Virginian was far better at controlling and cooling his sexual urges, but he was getting slightly restless nevertheless. He had to do something or he’d fucking explode. 

Thomas sighed, stepping into the bathroom to get a hand towel and an empty glass they used for teeth-brushing.  
“Pants off, Alexander. You want head?” he grumbled, searching in the cabinet for a properly sized towel. 

Alexander froze on the bed, shocked for a moment. He popped up only his head, looking over his chest to Thomas in the bathroom. 

“Deadass?” He spoke with laughter in his voice. Thomas grunted, turning around and pulling the door shut behind him with a heel.   
“If you stay quiet and do something for me in return, yes.” he listed his conditions, nudging his shoes off.

Alexander sat right up, swinging his feet off the edge of the bed to begin edging his pants down.   
“Sure. Shit, Thomas, I was going to ask, but I knew better than that.”   
“Mm. Good manners on your part; I would have said no.”  
“I know.” 

Alexander kicked his pants down to his ankles and then off, leaning back on his elbows with a contented sigh.   
“Letting you know my max right now is probably five minutes.”  
Thomas barked a laugh, leaning over Alexander to grab a pillow and placed it daintily beneath his own knees.   
“Cute that you think that’s even your decision, bitch.” Thomas growled, spreading Alexander’s legs and running his hands up his thighs, not hesitating to give him a little prick of nails at the end. Alexander gasped. 

“Yes sir. I’m sorry.” he swallowed, realizing that it wasn’t time to play anymore.   
“Are you?” Thomas rumbled.   
“Yes sir.” Alexander spoke, lowering his eyes and bowing his head respectfully, submitting. Thomas hummed a gravelly purr of content, using one single finger to lift Alexander’s chin. Those warm, milky brown eyes gazed up into his, awaiting his next command. 

Thomas’s ebony irises swept Alexander's face, his dark lips twitched.   
“Open your mouth.” he growled. Alex complied, and Thomas produced the towel, twisting it up and placing it atop Alexander’s tongue. Thoms pulled Alex’s head down to his chest by his hair, tying it at the back of his skull. 

Alexander’s heart was beating faster now, fluttering against his ribs. Thomas slowly allowed Alexander to lift his head again, hesitantly finding Thomas’s eyes. The dominant’s lips pulled into a smirk and he pressed a finger to his lips.   
“Shhh…” he whispered, making Alexander’s cock twitch with need. The little one squirmed, choking out a word that resembled ‘daddy’ around the towel. God, he was so perfect. 

Thomas’s eyes shot back for a moment, giving him his final warning.   
“I’ll ask you one more time, Alexander.” he nodded, voice cool and even, “Don’t you dare make a sound.” 

His sub nodded, relaxing back into his elbows as Thomas trailed his cold nails down his legs again, resting on his upper thigh. Thomas silently drew in a deep breath, flicking just the tip of his tongue over Alexander’s head just to watch him squirm. 

Those hips jerked up and the Virginian scolded Alex harshly with one glare, pinning the hips to the bed with piercing nails. 

“You’re being a brat. Stop it.” he spoke strictly as if he’d just slapped Alexander, shaking his head and returning back down to his boyfriend’s cock. With one more glowering glance, he placed the tip onto his tongue, sucking it into his mouth and holding it there. Five seconds. Alex was trembling, but he didn’t thrust. Good. 

Thomas moved to rubbing his tongue harshly on the underside of the tender tip, finding a particularly sensitive area and working at it. Alexander squeezed his eyes shut above Thomas’s, clenching his teeth HARD over the gag and biting down onto it. Thomas could see him curl his toes and decided that he’d had his fun, humming deeply and pulling all of Alexander into his throat until his nose touched his belly. 

Alexander rolled his head back, snarling over his gag that was effective in keeping him muffled. Thomas hollowed his cheeks and sucked back off with a pop, coming right back down without a moment’s hesitation.   
“Rrrrrrr…” Alexander growled, clenching on the gag. His ribs showed against his skin as his chest rapidly fluttered, gasping and panting. 

Thomas twisted his mouth around the top half of Alexander’s cock and jerked the base with his hand, flicking and twisting his wrist in time with his mouth and tongue. There was no fucking way Alexander was going to last, no fucking way. Crossing his ankles behind Thomas’s shoulders, Alexander brought him closer, anything to bring him closer. 

Thomas set into a feverish yet impossibly steady rhythm on Alexander, deepthroating him over and over again with a grace that Alex could never achieve. Three minutes of this and his cock was throbbing, keening to cum. Thomas’s tongue was so warm against him… his throat was so wet fluttering against his cock. Alexander was struggling to stay propped up on his shaking arms without collapsing. 

He whimpered, trying to let Thomas know that he needed permission. The Virginian’s ears perked, sucking off the tip and continuing to pump him seamlessly with his firm hand, locking Alexander’s eyes.   
“Are you trying to cum?” He asked cooly, lips slick and red from sucking. Alexander’s eyes were wide and he nodded frantically. His teeth clenched on the gag and he tried to form a word.   
“Please…” he managed desperately, twitching. 

“Good boy, asking permission.” Thomas praised, not helping Alex’s condition, “I’m going to put my mouth back on you. Behave for one more second and I’ll allow it.” Alexander groaned, shuffling clumsily closer to Thomas, who twitched his brow at him. 

“And I expect gratefulness for my generosity, slut.” he snarled, pressing Alex’s cock deep into his mouth. It didn’t even take one second, more like a fraction of a second for Alexander to spill his cum right onto Thomas’s tongue as he sucked upwards with hollowed cheeks. 

Alexander’s jaw spread as wide as it could and he collapsed onto his back, spine arching. But Thomas was quick, cum still in his mouth, he lunged forward and smacked his hand over Alex's mouth to silence him roughly, covering Alexander’s body with his own.

The boy writhed and jerked beneath him, trying to let out his pleasure but Thomas clamped his hand so tightly to Alexander’s face that it was almost painful.   
“Shh… I know baby… I know.” he coaxed him through it, almost a tiny bit sorry that Alexander couldn’t get his full release, but also… SO aroused by it. The way Alexander tried to kick his legs and balled up the sheets so violently he was almost punching them. So frustrated. 

His back flopped exhaustedly down to the bed as shiver after shiver of the orgasm crashed over him, dying down slowly and steadily like usual. Thomas monitored him, watching his young face twitch, and hesitantly raised his hand from his mouth, skeptical that he'd release a moan.   
“Mm…. Mh…” Alexander could only whimper now, so it would be fine, Thomas thought as he backed up, reaching down for the empty glass and spitting Alex’s warm cum into it daintily. 

Licking his lips and making sure he had spat all of it out, he stood elegantly from the floor to find Alexander gazing at him fondly, sweaty hair slicked to his forehead.   
“What?” Thomas sneered at the smug, amused look on his boyfriend’s face. Alexander shrugged. 

“President Thomas Jefferson. Too classy to swallow.” He sighed with love and orgasm-exhaustion, beckoning down for a kiss.  
“At least let me taste.”  
“You’re gross.”  
“You love me.” 

Alexander smiled as Thomas placed his big hands on his knees and leaned down for Alex to lick into his mouth. The smaller made sure to hum in satisfaction just to make Thomas roll his eyes. It was slow and sweet as it always was when they had finished, and Thomas gradually coaxed Alexander to swing his legs onto the bed, sitting up against the headboard for Thomas to crawl on top of, leaning deeply into his mouth. 

“I do love you.” Thomas grumbled against Alex’s tongue, “Mon amor…” he purred, allowing Alexander to rub his palms up under his waistcoat and over his abs.   
“What do you want, daddy?” Alexander slurred around Thomas’s tongue, “Anything you want…” he whispered, making Thomas surge forward even more, tangling both hands up in his hair. 

“Good fucking boy… God, you’re perfect.” He grumbled a bit breathlessly, tilting Alexander’s head up sharply and pulling his throat to his mouth, sucking on an already-fresh hickey. The dull pain made Alexander groan. But Thomas didn’t continue to ravish his throat or mouth, he concluded softly and pulled away from the wet skin.

Alexander blinked up hazily into those raven eyes, confused.   
“Thomas…?” Thomas smiled softly down at him, placing a feather-light kiss on his nose.   
“Yes, honey?”   
“Did you want me to suck your cock?” He repeated, trailing a finger between Thomas’s bottommost abs, swirling there. Thomas laughed lightly, tucking a strand of hair behind Alexander’s ear. 

“Actually I wanted something else in return.” he spoke.   
“Oh?” Alexander inquired curiously, letting him go on, still just twirling his finger on Thomas’s belly. Alex was prepared to do just about anything for Thomas, to be honest. 

Thomas looked like he was about to read him a memorized novel.   
“On Christmas Eve every year, when the sun’s setting, my family and I go down to the lake on horseback.” he explained, brushing more hair from Alexander’s face and laying it neatly back in place. 

“We play in the snow. We snowball fight even though we’re all too old for it, but to be honest who really gives a shit.”  
“Amen.”  
“And we just kind of make a fire and wrap up in all these blankets and coats and tell Christmas stories. Sounds stupid now that I’m saying it.” he laughed, but Alexander furrowed his brows, lips parting. 

“That doesn’t sound stupid.” he immediately contradicted, forcing Thomas to look in his eyes. He shook his head.  
“Who says that sounds stupid? That sounds like the goddamn greatest evening of the year.” 

Thomas sighed, “It is.” he agreed, internally relieved that Alex had seen it the way he’d hoped he would. Alex could see his lover’s eyes sparkle as he thought about it, so overly excited. And then it faded.

“The thing is that it’s supposed to be strictly family. And Jane and Mary have been whispering to me all day that I should bring you along.” Thomas looked from side to side, bouncing his head, “And Randolph too, but that’s a given.” 

Alexander would laugh, but he felt his heart sink a little bit.   
Oh.   
“Do you not want me to come?” he asked, trying not to sound as disappointed as he was. The smaller one wrapped his arms around Thomas’s warm waist and rubbed up and down his back, “It’s okay. If it’s a family thing I’m not going to butt in and fuck it up for you guys.”

“No!” Thomas cut him off, pressing his forehead to Alexander’s briefly, “God no, honey.” He laughed, and Alex could feel some relief lifting off of his partner. He pulled his head up, brushing the pad of his thumb over Alex’s lips fondly. 

“I was actually afraid of the other way around. That YOU wouldn’t want to come since… Well, since we’re not…”   
“Why wouldn’t I want to hang out with you and your family, Thomas?” Alex scoffed, “I mean, sure, I don’t like YOU very much. But your family’s pretty cool.” He poked fun at him, smiling up. But Thomas still seemed a little off. 

Alexander cocked his head.  
“What is it babe?”   
Thomas shook his head, looking down at Alexander and straining a tight smile, “Nothing.” 

Alexander’s face fell into a disappointed, EXTREMELY unimpressed look. He blinked slowly up at Thomas,  
“Really? Gonna pull that bullshit with me?” he raised an eyebrow,  
“I can tell you’re nervous about something, spit it out. I know for a fact you’re good at spitting things out, doofus.” He couldn’t help but jest with him. Thomas rolled his eyes.   
“Shut up, dumb whore.” he grumbled, kissing Alexander on the lips. 

The two just laughed into one another, pulling apart. Thomas seemed to have shaken off whatever was bothering him, and Alexander resolved to letting it go as he suddenly heard footsteps approaching near their room. Thomas’s eyes darted to the door and back. 

“Covers up.” he clipped, swinging out of the bed and pulling the sheets up to cover Alexander’s naked body, all of him, even his head.   
“You didn’t lock the door, fuckhead?” Alexander hissed from beneath the blankets.   
“No. Now shut up.” Thomas spat quietly back, clearing his throat and standing up tall as the door clicked open. 

A head popped in. 

“Hey TJ. We’re gonna get ready now so Ma said to tell you to get dressed.”   
Randolph’s voice sounded from the door frame as he leaned in. His green eyes peeked in the room and leapt from Thomas to the lump in the bed and back. A sly smile spread across his face. 

“Where’s Alex?” he purred rhetorically.   
Thomas rolled his eyes and crossed his arms stubbornly, “He’s in the bathroom. Is my interview over?” 

“Afraid not, Mr. President.” Randolph poked fun at his brother, leaning against the doorframe and crossing his legs, putting his attractive body on display.   
“Hey, Alex. How are you?” Randolph looked directly at where Alexander was, addressing him politely. 

The lump sighed in defeat, sheets roiling for a moment as Alex pulled them down to his waist, sitting up in bed.   
“Hey…” he grimaced in embarrassment. Sniffing and awkwardly scratching the back of his neck, hair obviously wrecked. Thomas looked from Alex to Randolph, scowling in irritation. 

“Planning on leaving my boyfriend and I alone?” he scoffed, cockily offended at the disruption. Randolph just stepped forward and threw an arm around his brother, who in turn walked him towards the door, grinding his knuckles against the top of Randolph’s head in an affectionate sibling-rivalry noogie. 

Randolph yelped and wrapped his arms around Thomas’s waist, trying to throw him off. 

“Can’t I have a turn?” Randolph whined as if they were fighting over a pony, “You're a hog.”   
“And you’re a pig.” Thomas snorted in amused disgust, shoving his brother out of the room, struggling not to smile at him. Randolph shrugged smugly, giving Alexander a wink over Thomas’s shoulder.   
“Alright, be ready soon. I would say have fun but looks like you two already did.”   
“Fuck off.”   
“Love you.”  
“Mhm.” Thomas grunted, shutting the door. He turned back to Alex and ran a hand through his raven hair. 

Alexander just laughed incredulously and shook his head, lips parted in bewilderment.   
“Your brother will do anything to get in my pants.”   
“And you’d better do anything to stay out of his or we’re going to have a long and unpleasant talk.”   
“I bet.” Alex snorted, throwing the blankets aside and stepping out of bed to pad, barefoot, to the dresser. 

“You two fight over boys often?” he opened the dresser door and peered in.   
“Constantly.” Thomas half laughed half groaned as he came up behind Alexander and hugged him from behind, pressing a wam kiss to his bare shoulder.   
“Who wins?” Alexander inquired, amused. 

Thomas breathed hotly against his skin, scraping his teeth over it and biting.   
“Who do you think…?” he purred, trailing his lips up Alexander’s shoulder, neck, and to his ear, smiling against it. Alex laughed, picking out warm clothes for himself and pulling them off the hanger.   
“I wonder.” he jested, slipping out from Thomas’s arms to let him have a turn at their dresser. 

Alex sniffed, laying his things out on the bed as he began to dress. He tossed a shirt over his head and spoke through the fabric.   
“Now here’s a question for you.” he began, knowing Thomas was gonna laugh at this one, “You two ever share?” 

Thomas answered seamlessly like the question wasn’t even wrong.   
“Do I look like a man who cares to share his things?” he snorted right back, glancing over his shoulder as he pulled on a thick overcoat. Alexander flashed him a smirk.   
“Not YOUR things, no. But you ever shared Randy’s things?” 

Thomas paused, hesitating. 

He looked over his shoulder once again. His eyes glinted slightly, corner of his lips twitching, possibly hinting at a smirk.   
“Why? You like the idea of my brother and I pounding the same twink?” he asked, nothing showing yet in his tone, letting Alexander take the lead. 

Alex shrugged casually, buttoning up his waistcoat and lifting his heavy overcoat from the bed.   
“No comment.” 

Thomas laughed lightheartedly, stepping behind Alexander to draw the strings on the back of his waistcoat, tightening it to his frame.   
“Well. MY only comment is that not all brothers are as close as Randy and I.”   
“I think I see where this is going.” Alexander smirked dirtily, lifting his hair up so that Thomas could set the overcoat snugly on Alexander’s shoulders. 

“Nowhere.” Thomas spoke curtly, patting Alex’s shoulders with his strong hands and resting them there, “Because we’re not sharing this one, no.” he kissed the top of Alexander’s head fondly, “I’m afraid I find myself a bit TOO possessive of you to spare some for my dearest brother.”

“How inconsiderate.” Alexander quipped dirtily, turning his head over his shoulder to get one of those awkward-angle yet perfect kisses. Thomas licked into his mouth and hummed.   
“Very inconsiderate.” He concurred, jumping violently at a knock from the door. 

Thomas lifted his head, moment ruined. 

“For fuck’s sake--WE’RE BUSY!” He shouted.   
“And we’re WAITING.” Anna wailed muffledly from behind the door. Thomas rolled his head back in a silent scream of frustration. 

“Little cockblockers.” he grumbled irritably to himself, letting go of a hysterically laughing Alexander to yank open the door. 

“Here. See? All ready.” he clipped, opening his arms to show himself to his little sister exasperatedly. She looked him up and down, snorting like he’s the funniest thing she’d ever seen.   
“No matter what you do, you always look like dumpster shit, TJ.”   
“Go fuck a tree.”  
“Go fuck your hand.” 

Thomas grabbed her and held her with his strong arm, messing up her hair with his other hand. She shrieked, trying to kick him.   
“Quit it, TJ! MA!”   
“Yeah, go run for mommy.” Thomas growled at her, releasing her and receiving a middle finger as she scampered down the hall. Thomas huffed a sigh, and heard Alexander wheezing, joyous tears in his eyes.   
“You’re an asshole.” he laughed, finally done getting dressed and standing on his tiptoes to place Thomas’s hat on his head. 

“No, I’m your president. And I’d watch that kind of disrespect.”   
“Bite me.” Alexander spoke, standing up on his toes again to kiss Thomas.   
“Careful what you wish for.” 

He found Alexander’s hand, intertwining their fingers and leading him out of the bedroom to where the family was milling around in the entrance hall. And Alexander’s heart had never felt so whole. Had never felt so complete. Everything he had ever been missing… every hole in his heart that had felt impossible to fill, it was all there before him. 

His lover. His family. His friends on the way in the morning to share Christmas with them. He'd Neve imagined gaining this for himself... and it was all there, he thought, squeezing Thomas’s hand and grinning to hold down the sudden and unexpected tears.   
All there… 

**

The evening was so very quiet, the only sound was the crunching of hooves in the snow and the snort of horses, amplified in the wintry silence. There were eight horses of all colors and sizes crunching down the blindingly white trail. Thomas was at the lead with Randolph and Anna on either side of him. Randolph was almost as tall as Thomas and sported his own towering thoroughbred like Tarquin. Anna’s horse was Arabian. 

Alexander hung back behind them on Morelle, his new favorite, and spoke with Jane and Lucy whilst Betsey, Mrs. Jeffeson, and Mary took up the rear. They were such a loud crowd, and with the snowy silence, the whole neighborhood could probably hear the Jefferson crew. Even if they hadn’t attached their traditional sleigh bells to the harnesses of their horses, their voices and laughter would have carried. 

Alexander was almost overwhelmed with the interest in him. Everyone wanted to know so much; everyone wanted to hear his stories as they bundled against the arctic breeze and rode at a leisurely walk. But he wanted to hear THEIR stories, and he was more than happy to lean back in the saddle and listen to Thomas’s sisters talk, observing the icy wonderland around him. 

Little critters scampered in the snow in search of nuts and seeds, icicles clung to every branch of every tree, the creek babbled quietly under a thin sheet of ice, trickling over frosted stones. He’d always seen winter as an inconvenience, not a sparkling, enchanted sort of magic. 

As Alexander finished telling a story to Jane (who had Will clinging to her from behind), he was struck once again by her striking resemblance to Thomas. Her brows, her face shape, her lips and hair and even her neck. Thomas. He made a mental note to ask Thomas if he noticed the almost uncanny similarity, it was shocking. 

In front of him, the dark thoroughbred tossed his head as Randolph reined it back, falling into stride next to Alexander. The boy’s eyes sparkled as he flashed white teeth, glancing down at Alexander with a smirk. 

“Hey Alex.” He spoke, matching Morelle’s pace.   
Here was a troublemaker. 

“Hey. How’s life up there?” Alexander joked at the height difference. Randolph laughed, leaning back in his saddle so that he was literally laying flat across the back of his horse, he folded his arms behind his head, letting go of the reins.   
“Lots of room. Still don’t understand why you didn’t ride with me.” he shrugged, sitting back up with a sigh to show off his ab strength. 

Alexander snorted, tossing his head to Thomas who was glancing over his shoulder, dark eyes flashing.   
“I think you know why, pretty boy.” Alex spoke laughingly, watching Randolph glance at Thomas and back. 

“Ah, TJ?” he waved a hand, frowning dismissively, “TJ’s a big boy but I know how to handle those.” He smirked with a wink. Alexander snorted again, shaking his head in slow wonder at Thomas’s brother. 

“You’re pretty terrible, you know that?” Alex squinted up at him. Randolph shrugged casually.   
“I do. I also know that my room’s gonna be unlocked tonight so if a particular immigrant comes upstairs he won’t even have to knock.” 

Alex scoffed, “Nice. You know what I know?” he fought not to burst out laughing at this kid’s determination.   
“What?”   
“That I’m four years older than you and dating your brother.” He shook his head, urging Morelle to hop forward, trotting a few strides ahead on the path. Randolph watched him go for a moment before heeling his horse faster, catching up immediately with a small spray of snow. 

“...So?” Randolph made a face as if he was genuinely confused, reining his horse to a skidding walk. Alex looked up at him again, his long dark hair peppered with snow.   
“So… What?” Alex scoffed, shaking his head incredulously, “I’m in love with your brother, Randolph.” The boy just shrugged again as if it was no concern of his. 

“Not asking you to love ME, gorgeous, I’m offering you the privilege of all THIS.” He leaned back and gestured grandly to his body that was--though attractive--completely wrapped up in heavy fur coats, not giving nearly the correct affect. But like Thomas, Randolph was oblivious to those sorts of things. 

Alexander sighed highly and shook his head in fondness. He was fun, even if he was a hopeless playboy. Maybe that’s what made him fun.   
“You really are an obviously arrogant pratt.” He spoke with all of the kindness in the world and a twinkle in his eye. Randolph just grinned down at him with those white teeth.   
“And my brother isn’t?”   
“Oh, he is.” Alexander puffed his cheeks out and exhaled, frozen breath curling up into the air in a plume of steam.   
“Good. You can just pretend I’m him. I’ll keep the candles extinguished, eleven o clock work?” 

At this point Alexander couldn’t help himself anymore, and burst out laughing, spooking Morelle a bit, making her perk and swivel her ears around in alarm. His laughter rang through the white, sparkling evening. 

He hadn’t even stopped laughing enough to notice that Thomas had fallen back, dropping to Alexander’s left. His brows were furrowed, looking from Randolph to Alexander, his beautiful body moving expertly with the stride of his horse. 

“What’s going on here?” He asked curiously, scowling at his brother, “Is this fucking monkey’s asshole bothering you?”   
Alexander wheezed, trying to catch his breath, and wiped his eyes with a thickly gloved hand.   
“Sorry babe. This won’t work out. I’ve got a date with your brother at eleven. Nice knowing ya.” 

It was almost COMICAL the way Thomas tensed up, prickling with anger and growling deep within his chest. Randolph just LIT UP with satisfaction.   
“WHAT.” Thomas snarled at Alex, who was still trying to gain his composure. 

“Cool your cock, Thomas. I’m joking. Your bro’s trying to talk me into his pants again.”   
“Randolph…” Thomas’s voice was biting with warning.   
“Just playing around TJ.” Randolph tilted his chin up cockily, standing off with his brother above the head of Alexander. Their rivalry was so entertaining he’d hardly even realized they were coming up on the lake soon. 

“One finger on my stuff and I’m beating the living fuck out of you.” Thomas growled, the signature warning rumbling deep in his possessive throat.   
“Ha! One finger! That’ll be bigger than anything he’s ever gotten with you.” 

And then Thomas screwed up his lips and kicked Tarquin into a canter, but Randolph’s eyes had already widened in panic and he’d galloped off with a spray of snow onto Anna, horses snorting and whinnying. Alexander physically could not stop laughing. 

She sputtered, trying to brush herself off as the boys chased each other around. Mrs. Jefferson sighed, watching them weave between the trees. 

“Boys being boys.” She shook her head fondly, green eyes sparkling in the reflecting snow.   
“Men being boys.” Betsey corrected with an eye roll.   
“Amen.” Alexander concurred, reaching over to pat her horse on the rump. 

The family minus Thomas and Randolph found the clearing to dismount in, tethering the horses to the hollow’s edge of frost encrusted trees. Alexander rubbed a palm up and down Morelle’s nose, watching their icy breath mix in the air. Fuck, it was cold.   
“You cold, princess?” he asked, pushing his hat further onto his head to insulate. Morelle tossed her mane and Alexander snorted. “Try being Caribbean, man.” 

His conversation was interrupted by hands wrapping around his waist from behind, making him jump and gasp.   
“FUCK--Don’t SCARE me like that, shit-brain.” He growled, and a hand clapped over his mouth.   
“Hey, no cursing around the children.”  
“Mph, mm, mph mhm. Mm.”   
“Huh?” Thomas released his face and Alexander gasped, sharp wintry air stinging his lungs. Alexander turned around with a scowl, shoving his hands in his pockets. 

“Trying to kill me?” Thomas stood before him, covered in snow, clearly having wrestled with Randolph. Thomas shrugged, pulling Alexander against his body.   
“Never. I need SOMEONE to fuck, don’t I?”   
“Honored.” Alex grumbled, refusing to hug Thomas back, but the Virginiand didn’t give two shits, squeezing Alexander against his warm body and digging his chin into the top of Alex’s head. 

“Ow.”   
“Give your boyfriend a hug and he’ll stop hurting you.”  
“Cruelty.”  
“My specialty.” Thomas hummed as Alexander gave in, wrapping his poofy arms around Thomas’s poofy coat. All poof and fur.   
“Was that so hard?”   
“Yep. Need a medal of honor, your excellency.” 

Thomas sniffed in satisfaction, drifting a hand lightly down between Alexander’s legs. Alex twitched, trying not to gasp at Thomas’s boldness.   
“Addressing me correctly, are we, Mr. Secretary?” Thomas tilted Alexander’s face up to his with two fingers, cocking an arrogant brow. Alex smiled.  
“Thomas--”  
“Your Excellency.”  
“Your EXCELLENCY.” Alexander grinned, correcting himself, “Your family is watching.” he spoke, grin never leaving his face. 

Thomas pulled his hand away as if burned and whirled around with a small, embarrassed cough. Alexander put a hand to his mouth, covering his helpless grin. 

“Alright.” Thomas conducted, looking at his family milling about in the clearing, “You know how it goes, firewood first because you’ll be complaining in five minutes,” he pointed at Lucy and Anna, “Cause your asses are cold and I don’t wanna hear it.” 

Anna scoffed at him. “We get Randolph.” 

“I call Alex.” Randolph piped up, swaggering over from where he was at his horse, swinging a hatchet around like a toy. Thomas scowled.   
“Put that thing down, you’ll take someone’s head off.” he commanded strictly, and Randolph rolled his eyes and followed the orders nevertheless. 

“Jane, Mary, Ma, set up blankets for the babies first and foremost,” he dictated, nodding to them, Jane trying to corral an over-excited Will, wading through the snowbank. “Randolph, Anna, firewood in that direction. Betsey, Lucy, clear the snow here. Alexander.” he tossed his chin and Alex immediately fell to his side as he knew to do, and they turned away. 

“I don’t WANNA clear any snow, TJ.”   
“I don’t WANNA do a lot of things, sweetheart. Tough luck.” Thomas sneered back over his shoulder, making Lucy stomp a foot and trudge towards the middle of the clearing, beginning to push snow around. 

The Virginian turned to his boyfriend, feet crunching in the soft, powdery snow.   
“Off we go.”   
“Onwards.” 

They plowed through the woods in large steps over the deep accumulation, toes just a bit numb, cheeks rosy with cold. But the forest was so strikingly enchanting; it seemed like something straight out of a fairytale. Alexander and Thomas bickered and squabbled the whole way, collecting firewood and seemingly unable to go more than two minutes without a kissing break beneath the icicles fiery with the sunset. 

Finally, they wound their way back to the white clearing, which looked great. Blankets were surrounding a cleared area for the fire, and the crisp, ‘BAP’ sound of snowballs meeting coats was harmonizing with ringing squeals and laughter.

“Ohhhh, looks like the snowball fighting started.” Thomas snickered, dumping the wood at the center of the firepit and very oddly backing away from Alexander. The smaller cocked his head, confused. 

“And?”   
Thomas smirked, “And...” he followed up, locking their eyes as he slowly, carefully bent down, scooping up an abundant amount of powder in his hands. Alex’s eyes flickered from Thomas’s gloves to his face again, heart fluttering.   
“There are no alliances in snowball fights.” Uh oh. Alexander started to get it. 

“Thomas…” Alexander slowly began to back up, but his boyfriend had already stood, packing and rolling the snow into a neat sphere. His lips twitched into a cruel, malicious smirk.   
“Thomas… NO.” he warned, backing up, stumbling over his feet. Thomas tossed the snowball up once in the air and caught it. 

“Nothing personal.” he shrugged.  
“Thomas…” Alexander pointed at him, but his boyfriend just grinned, winding up his arm and chucking the snowball as hard as he could. It whizzed through the air and nailed Alexander right in the face, exploding into a million little flakes. 

For a moment, Alexander just stood there in shock, eyes squeezed shut and mouth screwed up. The icy, stinging feeling bit his face, his hair and eyelashes coated with snow. 

Thomas was bursting not to laugh as Alexander lifted one dainty hand and wiped it across his face, clearing off the melting snow. He blinked his eyes open, fluttering his lashes. 

“No… no, no, I’m afraid you’re mistaken, Jefferson.” Alexander spoke cooly, and bent down to scoop an abundant amount of powder into his own hands.   
“How so?” Thomas responded evenly as Alexander stood, packing the snow. Alex cocked his head and pursed his lips into a tight smile. 

“I’m afraid it is personal.” he saw the fleeting flash of fear in Thomas’s eyes before he lunged at him, hurling the snowball with all of the might in his little body, pelting Thomas point-blank in the side of the head as he tried to turn away. 

Mrs. Jefferson and Mary, who weren’t joining in, clapped and put their hands to their mouths, laughing joyously at the participation of the new competitor. Thomas was having none of it. Without even cleaning the snow off his face, he growled and lunged for Alexander.

The smaller had no time to brace himself as Thomas slammed into him, sending them both tumbling to the ground with a puff of snow. Randolph watched wistfully from the other side of the clearing, his vulnerability allowing Anna to clobber him with another snowball. 

Alexander and Thomas wrestled in the snow, laughing as some of the cold flakes got up their noses and went down the backs of their collars, chilling them. Alexander rolled out from under Thomas and tackled him again with a ringing laugh, and shrieked when Thomas took a handful of snow and plastered it to his face. 

“That wasn’t even a snowball, asshole!” Alexander protested with a breathless laugh and squeaked as Thomas rolled on top of him, pinning him once he’d hesitated.   
“I fight dirty.” Thomas shrugged, flicking his dark eyebrows, “You should know that by now.” He whispered under his breath. 

Alexander laughed, and his voice sounded like sleigh bells, high and euphoric, ringing out past the little clearing. Thomas stared down at him, all splayed out in the snow. There were flakes in his lashes, and his hair was spread, powdered with white. He was a mess, and he was so… beautiful. Thomas sighed and smiled. He was his… HIS Alexander.  
All his… 

“You look like an angel…” he breathed, gazing down at those rosy cheeks, how his breath curled up in a frosty cloud. The words just... came out of him.   
“Shut up, you big sap.”   
“Watch your mouth or I’ll watch it for you.” Thomas blinked, drawing his face closer to his boyfriend’s. Alexander couldn’t hold back his grin, deep cherry lips so inviting.   
“By all means…” he mumbled, closing his eyes slowly as Thomas finally met his lips, just pressing against them. 

Mrs. Jefferson put a hand to her heart and gently nudged Mary who turned her head distractedly, bouncing a bundled Nathan until she saw them too. Her features softened and it felt like her heart warmed in her chest. They both knew that they’d never seen her brother like this. So… happy. Never once in their lives. 

When Thomas finally concluded the kiss and lifted just a half inch, Alexander’s eyes were still closed. He could be sleeping, he looked so peaceful. The President could feel the pure, raw love spreading in his heart, taking him over, leaving him completely naked and defenseless and vulnerable. And it was scary. It was terrifying. 

But as Alexander fluttered his eyes open, lashes heavy with snow, smiling softly as soon as he met Thomas’s eyes, Thomas wasn't afraid anymore. And he knew. 

That was all it took for him to cast any lingering doubt he may have had to the wind, let it fly away over the smoking chimneys and icy rooftops of the city. 

He knew the Christmas gift he had for Alexander. He knew exactly where it was and exactly what was in it. 

And as he gazed down at his lover, he finally knew he was ready to give it to him when the morning followed…   
Maybe he had been ready all this time.


	50. Every Single Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned for next chapter loves!! Will there be a happy ending? We'll see! ❤️😄

Thomas quietly entered the room, clicking the door shut behind his back and padded with light feet to the dresser. Alexander sighed, stirring in the sheets and rolling to face the room. He propped his head up on his elbow to look at his boyfriend.   
“You don’t have to do that; I’m awake.” he yawned, making Thomas look over his shoulder as he unbuttoned his waistcoat. 

“Do what?” he drawled, shrugging it off and working at his cravat. Alexander smiled softly in the low candlelight.  
“Tiptoe around.”   
“I’m not tiptoeing.” Thomas sniffed, chin in the air as he let his shirt fall off his frame and folded it. Alexander just smiled fondly at him while he couldn’t see, letting out a deep sigh.   
“Okay buddy.” he snorted lightly, closing his eyes for a quick kiss before Thomas crawled over him into bed, settling down and rustling the sheets to get comfortable. 

With a grunt, he twisted to blow out the candle on their ledge, pitching the room into darkness. Alexander just blinked, eyes adjusting to the night.   
It was silent, impossibly, incredibly silent outside, the snow falling unseen in the forest. But in the house it was warm, only the smoldering ashes glowed weakly in the dark and the knowledge that all above them the rest of the family was drifting off to sleep. 

Thomas took a deep breath, sliding a hand through the covers to hook around Alexander’s waist, pulling him close against his body under the heavy fur blankets. Alexander needed a lot of attention in order to stay warm in these months and Thomas may have gone a bit overboard with all the fur, but his boyfriend didn’t mind. 

Alexander hummed, wrapped up and fuzzy and warm. Thomas pressed a kiss to his temple, staying there for a bit as they listened to the fire crackling, to the silence of the snow. Thomas remained with his eyes closed, waiting for the very thing he felt every single year since he was just a boy. He remained still... and waited. And then Thomas finally whispered. 

“Do you feel it, Alexander?” he breathed. Something in his voice was odd, Alex noted. Almost...mystical. The boy turned his head over his shoulder to see Thomas’s eyes closed peacefully, his dark lashes twitching against his face. 

“Feel what?” Alex responded. Thomas didn’t reply until a warm smile slowly spread on his face.   
“The spirit of Christmas…” he whispered as almost a sigh, a breath of pure relief, pure content. For a few moments Alexander just gazed at him in curiosity, not wanting to interrupt the internal moment that Thomas was having. It lasted for a whole minute. 

The man finally fluttered open his eyes, blinking at Alexander and brushing a thumb over his cheek. 

“Spirit of Christmas?” Alexander mused lightly, leaning into the touch that Thomas provided.The man hummed, nodding into their pillow.   
“Family. Love. Timelessness. Giving.” He furrowed his brows when Alexander’s face looked blank, lost. Alex sighed, feeling like he should provide an explanation. 

“I guess I just… never really experienced Christmas as a kid, you know.” he shrugged, looking down, and felt his cheeks begin to burn. All this time and his past still ashamed him, subordinated him, forced him to feel inferior, and he hated it. 

“We couldn’t afford to do gifts so we just didn’t. And there wasn’t any family to do it with in the first place. I mean, yeah I’d heard of Santa Claus and stuff but when I was little I just assumed that… well…” Alex sighed shakily, baffled by the amount of emotion that this was bringing up. And so suddenly. He didn’t meet Thomas’s eyes. 

“I just kind of assumed I was the one kid in the whole world that Santa didn’t care about.” He laughed morbidly, sniffing and brushing some hair out of his face.   
“Which sounds fucking stupid now, obviously. Tons of kids aren’t lucky enough to have that.” 

Alexander finally looked up when he’d pulled himself together and realized that Thomas hadn’t responded. He raised his eyes to see Thomas’s…. BRIMMING with hurt. The man looked positively heartbroken, crushed. 

“Thomas…?”  
“Alexander…” Thomas surged forward a bit, pulling him close to his chest and wrapping him up, enveloping him, “I am… SO… sorry.” his voice actually wavered for a moment, he was getting that emotional over this. Alex wrapped his arms around Thomas’s warm waist, hugging him back with a sympathetic laugh.   
“It’s nothing, really, don't get all worked up.”

“No, it’s everything.” Thomas contradicted, “Christmas has always meant the world to me. Not the day but everything surrounding it. The… magic.” Alex sensed that change in his voice again, the voice he reserved only when speaking of the enchanting mystery of the magic.   
“I can’t imagine not having it. And feeling so alone and forgotten. And I’m sorry.” 

“No, but you don’t understand.” Alex laughed joyously, pulling away to look him in the eyes and stroke a hand through that raven hair that he adored, “I’ve been meaning to tell you but we’ve all just been so busy… and I haven’t had time to step back, but what I’m trying to say is I HAVE that now.” 

Alex sensed that he could get his point out further, exemplify it. He had to if he wanted to express the pure, unhidden love that was encircling him.   
“I HAVE it now, Thomas. Your family…” he laughed once again, trying to blink down the tears that were pricking at the corners of his eyes. Thomas just watched him as he took a deep, shaky breath, meeting his eyes again with the most genuine look of pure honesty. 

“I don’t know how to put this other than they are filling the place in me that has been so hurt for so long that it forgot why it was hurting.”   
“Oh sweetie…” 

“I took so long to finally admit that I loved your stupid ass, Thomas.” he smiled fondly against his lover’s neck pulling away to look in his eyes again, “I think I’m learning.”   
And Thomas melted right there. The grin that followed physically broke Thomas’s heart. It was so bittersweet, so beautiful…

“Step by step, I’m learning to love. And I…” he took another deep breath, ready to say it, “I love your family.” he finally got it out. And it just felt… RIGHT.   
“I love them. I love your mom and how protective she is of her little crew even if you all pretend you’re too old for it.” 

Thomas laughed fondly as Alexander went on, eyes sparkling despite the low light, “I love your siblings and all of their crazy quirks and little interests. Lucy and her books and Betsey and her wit.”  
“Ha. I call that an attitude.”  
“I know YOU do.” Alexander smirked slyly, going on, “Anna’s snark and your horny brother’s flirting.”  
“Swear to God I’m going to knock his teeth out.”   
“And Mary is so considerate. She has your HEART Thomas. And Jane is frighteningly like you, Thomas, everything you do. Her movements, her quiet logic. She LOOKS exactly like you.” 

Thomas nodded, pressing a kiss to Alex’s forehead, “Everyone thinks we’re twins.” he sighed, having heard the observation all his life, “She stays strong but inside she’s suffering, you know. She loves nothing more than she loves children but her husband’s impotent.” 

Alexander’s lips parted. He... had no idea.   
“That’s terrible.” he breathed. Thomas nodded.  
“But it’s gotten better on her side. He’s agreed to allow her to be a surrogate mother for other families who can’t produce children. When she’s ready of course. She’s got Nathaniel to sire up a bit.”   
“Makes sense. And your nieces and nephews, don’t get me started. Did I tell you I was NOT a baby person before this?”

“Alexander, I knew without asking. You can’t even take care of a house plant.”   
“Shut up.” Alex laughed, tugging at a lock of his hair and earning a playful growl and kiss.   
“But I LOVE them. And I love watching you love them. I love watching them loving you loving them just UGH.” Alexander quickly overwhelmed himself and couldn’t take it anymore, diving in for a kiss. 

Thomas laughed lightly, pressing into his mouth and closing on Alex’s. They just breathed softly against each other’s faces, eyelids fluttering as they opened and closed their mouths so slowly, lazily. They took their time, in no sort of hurry as they kissed, slowly and deeply lapping at one another. It was peaceful and so utterly tender, so vulnerable and yet so safe. 

Safe. That was the word that danced in Alexander’s head as they lay together under all those blankets, the snow falling outside and the fire glowing warmly in the hearth. He was finally safe. 

With a soft breath and one last kiss, Thomas concluded silently, lifting his face just an inch from the exhausted Alexander’s.   
The boy just stayed like that, looking like an angel with his eyes still closed, his lips still parted. 

And when he finally fluttered open his eyes, he smiled and shook his head lightly.   
“If someone told me I’d be in love with Thomas Jefferson a year ago, I’d’ve projectile vomited across the room.” 

Thomas smiled and shook his head in utter awe, love flooding his entire being. Nobody knew how to ruin a moment better than Alexander Hamilton. 

“I love you,” was Thomas’s only response, pulling him close against his chest and squeezing his eyes shut, trying to contain it all as he buried his face in Thomas’s hair, breathing deeply.

“I don’t say this often cause I don’t want your fat head to get any bigger.”   
“Ha.”  
“But sometimes, Alexander, I don’t think I can get enough of you.” 

Alexander burrowed closer against Thomas if physically possible, and kissed the hollow between his collarbones.   
“Whaddya mean.” he slurred muffledly under there as Thomas squeezed him. The man sighed, kissing the top of his head. 

“I mean you see couples that just kind of casually hang out. And get used to each other’s presence. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to you.”   
“Huh?” Alexander’s heart fell a little bit, confused. He tried to pull away and look at his boyfriend but Thomas held him there with a little laugh. 

“No, not like that, fuckhead. I mean look, every time I see you, every time I walk into a room and you’re there I just can’t get ‘used to it’. I can’t just think it normal and go on with my day. Every time I hold you, I guess… It feels like my first and my last time. I’m just… always in awe of you. And that I have you. It doesn’t feel real.”

He trailed off, lifting the hem of Alexander’s shirt to brush his thumb rhythmically over his ribs.   
“Does that make sense?” He asked, almost slightly self-conscious.   
“Yeah, actually. It does.” Alex affirmed, deeply kissing his collarbone again, “It does.” 

The two were quiet for a long time, both thinking. Thomas’s thumb was soothing and just so relaxing on Alexander’s back, and the fire was warm. And Thomas was warm. Alexander felt himself drifting off, body heavy from the action of the day. But he still vaguely knew he wanted to ask one thing before he fell into slumber. 

After some time, Alexander finally whispered, so quiet that Thomas almost couldn’t hear him. 

“Thomas… Do you see yourself having kids one day?” 

There was a pause. Moments passed before Thomas responded. 

The man sighed, “What do you think all those empty rooms upstairs are for?” he answered with a question. Alexander nodded against his chest. 

But… there was a note to his voice that was almost melancholy...sad. The way he had said ‘empty’...It got Alex’s wheels turning.  
But not now. That was for another time, another discussion. There were steps before… that. 

Alex had one last question, feeling himself grow heavy and his lids slip closed. This question could not be saved for another time, and so he let it slip quietly from his lips.   
“Hey… what does the spirit of Christmas feel like?” He whispered weakly.  
And Thomas’s heart broke right there in his chest, and in that moment he knew he had to do something. The larger man inhaled, shuffling closer. 

“Here. Close your eyes and I’ll let you feel it.”   
“How does that work?”   
“Do what I said and you’ll see.” 

Alex skeptically closed his eyes again, letting himself be enveloped into the warm darkness. Thomas shifted closer, settling down against the pillow so they were in sleeping position. He took a deep breath, getting himself ready to begin, but only after a proper pause of silence. 

“It’s the night before Christmas and you lay in your bed… warm, under fur blankets, full and heavy from the dinner you had with your family.”   
Thomas felt Alexander stir slightly at the sound of those words… ‘your family’... he went on. 

“The scent is warm and heavy in the house… the pine scent of the sparkling Christmas tree, glittering in the glow of the fire, the gifts under the tree lay still, untouched in their wrapping. The stockings over the fire are limp… waiting…Everything in the house is so perfectly still that it could be a painting. Silence as the snow falls. Silence.” he breathed, leaning in closer and holding his boyfriend. 

“Because somewhere out there in the night, the snow falling softly on the fields and frozen rivers… Santa’s sleigh is riding through the night sky. Somewhere out there…” he trailed, feeling Alexander begin to relax. And he was beginning to feel it. 

“The sleigh bells jingle in the quiet night, his reindeer snort and toss their heads. And he is on his way. He’s on his way…” Alexander’s breath fluttered against Thomas’s belly, making him smile. Alexander was envisioning it. He could see it! 

“But you are so tired… so weary to sleep as dreams of sugar plums dance in your head. You know you have to be fast asleep before he comes... So close your eyes, love, dream of the pretty bows and the laughter you will hear when the children wake up tomorrow and know… and know that Santa came that night. He came to them. ALL... of them. Not a child forgotten.” 

Thomas paused and closed his eyes, feeling a tear fall against his chest as Alexander began to weep silently against him.   
“Close your eyes, love. Dream. And maybe just before you fall asleep… you’ll hear the sleigh bells. He’s coming, Alexander. He is…” 

And Thomas concluded, just stroking those fingers lightly over Alexander’s back as he quietly shook with sobs. He didn’t speak for a long time. And Thomas let him take his time until he was ready. 

“I feel it, Thomas…” he sobbed, gripping weakly onto his boyfriend and pulling him close. Thomas buried his face in Alexander’s hair.   
“Thank you…” the smaller wept. They were his last words before he fell asleep. 

**

The parlor at the Jefferson house had never been so alive, so noisy, so crowded, or so full of light. And WARM too.   
The Christmas tree positively sparkled in the morning sunshine glaring off the sparkling snow banks outside. It had just stopped snowing and the sun had come out, flooding the room with sunlight. 

The fires roared to keep everyone warm, and that morning guests had blown in in pairs, rosy cheeked and hair peppered with the falling powder, each commenting on the weather. Now, there were twenty people in the parlor, laughing and chatting and children running around the tree through the sea of wrapping paper. 

The new guests of the morning were all invitees from Thomas and Alexander. John, Hercules, and Lafayette took the couch, the Jefferson family immediately adored the odd bunch and peppered them with questions and an abundant amount of food and Christmas cookies. Will had to be torn away from Lafayette who he was fascinated by--all those shiny pins on his coat! Where did they all come from? 

The newlyweds, George and James, were sitting by the fire, watching their daughter Eleanor scurry around, playing chase with Will and two-year-old Henriette, Lafayette’s son. Eleanor had been the light of their life, and everyone in the room could see the way the pair looked at her… everyone in the room could see the color in James’s cheeks, the strength in his movements and wit. He was permanently smiling, hand in his husband’s as they watched their little girl trip over her dress and get right back up. Quite the little lioness, they thought, and she was getting stronger every day.   
George smiled at James, the brightness in his eyes and sighed. She wasn’t the only one. 

Eliza and Martha had come in with not one, not two, but THREE of their world-class pumpkin pies and had earned the immediate adoration of the entire Jefferson family, who were very food-motivated people. Mrs. Jefferson was now speaking to the girls enthusiastically about something Alex couldn’t hear over all the hubbub, but they were happy, so everything was alright by him. 

The rest of the Jefferson crowd was sorting through their gifts and comparing, trying things on and trying on everyone else’s things. Thomas and Alexander watched, squished into one chair as Will went into incredible detail on everything he’d gotten in that lovely three-year-old language, and Lafayette (being the man that he is) listened with raptured attention, enthralled and asking questions.  
Now it was Thomas and Alexander’s turn to give gifts to each other. They’d already done their gifts to everyone else, the most hilarious being Alexander’s to Randolph. It was Thomas’s suggestion that Alexander gift the desperate romantic a single kiss, hoping it would stave him off. But unfortunately both of them were wrong, it just made him worse. Which was at least comical for all the guests to witness, so it had its positives. 

Alexander groaned as Eliza chanted his name over the hubbub, insisting he go first.   
“Aughhhh, No, Thomas you go.”   
“No, no, I insist.” Thomas smiled smugly, wedging his foot up to the small of Alexander’s back and pushing him off the chair.   
“Hey--Jackass.” he hissed sticking his tongue out at him as the group laughed, turning the attention to the two and settling down, ready to watch them exchange. Alexander grumbled with a smile on his face, wading through some present boxes to get to the first one he wanted to give to Thomas. 

“I’m going to tell you right now…” he grunted, rounding behind the piney Christmas tree, “This one’s a gag gift but nobody’s gonna get it but you.” 

“Oh God.” Thomas responded, and the rest of the family and friends raised eyebrows and exchanged looks, curiously intrigued. The looks only increased when Alex came back around with a heavy, flat gift that was far taller than him. 

“Coming through.” he warned a curious Henriette who was peering around at him with Eleanor at his side.   
“Henriette, my boy, venez ici et asseyez-vous avec votre père.” he spoke, and the boy skipped towards him.   
“You too, Ele.” George spoke, and she brushed her frizzy hair behind her ear and stepped over to her dads, reaching up for James to pick her up with an exaggerated grunt to signify how big she’s getting and bounce her in his lap. 

“You’re getting too big for this.” he smiled, taking out her hair to put it back in again; it was such a curly mess.   
“No. You too old.” she spoke, making everyone laugh. James did too.   
“I’m twenty-five years old, young lady.” he responded with false-curtness, looking around the front of her to look in her eyes.   
“Old.” she responded with another chorus of laughter. By this time Alex had hoisted the gift around and set it at Thomas’s feet. 

“Open.” he huffed, sitting on the floor and leaning back with a sly grin all over his smug face. Thomas squinted at him extremely suspiciously before slowly bending down, tearing the paper open. Alexander just watched the whole time, trying to contain himself. 

Thomas finished and sat back… thinking. 

“A mirror.” he spoke, knuckle to his mouth in contemplation, “And a beautiful one at that, honey.” he spoke. It was an ornate golden mirror, and Thomas was right; it was beautiful. 

“Ahh, yes. And you know what’s crazy? It’s exactly six foot two.” he grinned wickedly. Thomas’s eyes darted to Alexander’s.   
“It would fit perfectly right across from our bed don’t you think? That’s a good spot.” 

Thomas’s mouth dropped, but the corners of his lips were tugged into a smile. The rest of the family looked at each other, confused and trying to figure it out, but only two people in the room understood this one.   
“You did not.” Thomas shook his head slowly, but the malicious grin on Alex’s face just spread and he nodded just as slowly.   
“Oh… I did.” he spoke.   
“You know we’re having a talk about this.” Thomas rumbled, half playful and half dangerous. Alexander sighed with a shrug, knowing exactly what he meant by “talk”. 

“Yeah, I know. I’m glad you like it.”   
“Oh I do. And I have a feeling I’m going to continue to like it.”   
“Thought so.” 

“Alright, alright onto something we understand.” Betesy grumbled, plopping her head onto her hand boredly, “This feels like a foreign language convention.”   
“Well, Betsey,” Alexander sneered playfully at her, “SOME of us actually speak a foreign language.” 

With a completely straight face, she stared at Alexander point-blank and said, “Und einige von uns haben zu viel Mund für unser eigenes Wohl.”   
For a few moments Alexander just stared at her, speechless. 

“Screw you…” he grumbled fondly under his breath, turning back to the tree to get his second gift. The girls just squinted at him and smiled with her head on her hand, “Hmm…” she hummed, scrunching up her nose in snarky victory. Thomas’s bitchy side, right there. And Alex loved it. 

“Okay, this isn’t a gag gift, and it requires some explanation.” Alexander pulled out the next box and held it carefully as if made of glass. Thomas’s dark eyes followed it curiously as Alex handed it to him, setting it gently on Thomas’s lap and nodding for him to open. Thomas cast one glance up at his boyfriend before slipping the bow off and opening the box. 

Before anyone else could view the contents, they saw Thomas’s face drop in utter speechlessness. Alexander smiled. 

“So,” he began, lifting the contents out of the box when Thomas was frozen, hand raised slowly to his mouth. Alex’s friends craned to see what he was holding, loathing the suspense. 

“This is a handmade quill set I had made for you in France.” he recited, setting the ornate rack of quills on top of the box. The family gasped, entranced by its captivating beauty. The plumes and sterling silver sparkled in the morning snow-glare sunlight. 

“The green plumes are from the Gallic Rooster, France’s national bird.”  
“I know that.” Thomas whispered, almost offended, but his eyes remained captured by the glittering quills. 

“But not just any roosters. The Roosters belong to none other than Maximilien Robespierre.”   
The family gasped, and Lafayette placed a hand over his heart, a bit dizzy.   
“Mon Dieu…” he murmured. For a few moments everyone remained in shock, even Washington. That was quite the gift. 

“And look, babe, the engraving on the sterling silver of each quill says your name…” he pointed to specify, “And the date you were sworn into office. See?”   
There was a long… long pause as Thomas tried to take it in but failed. 

“Alexander… I don’t know what to say…” Thomas trailed off, reaching up a hand and running it through his boyfriend’s long hair as if to make sure he was real.   
“Then don’t.” Alex shrugged, leaning down for a deep, sweet kiss that Thomas accepted willingly. There was a collective “Awww…” in the parlor from everyone except from Randolph who crossed his arms with a huff and rolled his eyes. 

The two kept it PG in front of the kids, but the sheer quantity of love in Thomas’s gaze made Alexander want to excuse the both of them for a few hours. But he shook it off, not now, he thought: he had one more gift to give to his boyfriend. 

“Okay, stay with me here.” Alexander hopped back to the tree, Thomas still marvelling at the quill set and reaching out to touch it gingerly like it would disappear or just fall apart. By the time he came back to reality, Alexander had plopped a box on his lap again. This one had holes near the top. 

The boy sat down in front of him on the coffee table, bouncing his foot excitedly. There was a a grin so wide on his face that it could crack a tooth.   
“I think it’s asleep so don’t frighten it.” 

Everyone let out an interested, “Ooooh…” looking at one another. And to Thomas. The man, who was already tearing off the paper stopped dead in his tracks, eyes shooting up to Alexander. He paused. 

“Honey if there’s a snake in here I swear to God--”  
“No, no, no, just open it.” Alexander urged, scooting to the edge of the table in his jittery excitement. Thomas gave him one last extremely skeptical look before hesitantly lifting the lid of the box, wincing a bit, bracing himself. 

But his face immediately melted, jaw dropping to his chest as he reached inside.   
“I found her alone in the city and she cleans up well, I’d say.” 

Thomas carefully, with the utmost caution and gentleness, lifted a sleeping kitten from the box. Eleanor immediately leapt forward to hold it, but James held her back with a laugh. The rest of the guests let out a collected sigh on seeing the lethal cuteness of the tiny thing, eyes widening. They all started clapping warmly in joy as they saw the kitten yawn, pink tongue curling out and blinking open her green eyes. 

“Oh…. Hello there…” Thomas spoke in the same gasp-y voice he used for babies, opening his mouth wide, brows raised to look at her. Alexander took the box and put it on the floor so Thomas could curl the kitten against his chest without obstructions. He stroked the soft fur between her ears and looked right up at Alexander. 

“She’s purring.” he grinned like a young boy, making Alexander’s heart swell. All these sides of Thomas were so different and unique and Alexander fell in love with them every time, helpless. He nodded.   
“I thought that in case you miss me while I’m at work and you’re all alone, you’d want something to hold and remember me by.”   
Thomas laughed, “Alexander I’m… President of the United States.” Everyone in the room burst out laughing, John could be heard slapping Hercules’s back with his signature wheeze. “I’m your boss.” he finished with another barking laugh, but Alexander just rolled his eyes.

“Yeah but let’s face it, treasurers do more work than your Executive ass ever will.”   
“Ehem.” Washington coughed lightly, raising a brow at Alexander who dipped his head, trying not to snort.   
“Sorry, your excellency.” he chortled, turning back to Thomas. 

“I was going to name her Alexander.”  
“Because that’s not creepy at all.” Thomas scoffed, making everyone wheeze again.   
“But on closer examination she’s a chick. So Lexi it is.”   
Thomas smiled warmly, barely hearing Alexander as he rubbed a finger under her tiny chin, right where the white part of her little ‘tuxedo’ started. 

“Hey Lexi. Who’s a pretty girl?” The kitten closed her eyes and lifted her head, whiskers forward to let Thomas’s long finger stroke her.   
“Since TJ’s marrying the cat now, can I have Alex?” Randolph piped up, earning another round of laughter that lasted a whole minute for everyone to wind down. 

Finally with another round of foaming root beer--courtesy of James--everyone was anxious to see Thomas’s gifts to Alexander. Only Mrs. Jefferson sat near the back of the crowd, a coy little smile on her wrinkled face.   
She knew. 

Thomas was reluctant to part with his new pet, and was practically growling at anyone who offered to hold her instead, so he managed to hold the wide-eyed kitten in one hand and lift a small, flat, rectangular gift from the pile.   
“I’ve got two gifts for my lover.” 

“No way. I beat Thomas Jefferson at something.” Alexander gasped, making everyone snort and sip at their frothing root beer.   
“Yeah. Alright buddy.” Thomas snorted with a toss of his chin, “We’ll see about that…” he mumbled under his breath, handing over the package to Alexander who was still sitting on the edge of the coffee table casually. 

He made a big show out of opening it, taking his sweet time. But perhaps, Thomas thought, he wasn’t just being a showy asshole. There was this glint in his eye that proved that he really was trying to savor this moment, which was both heartbreaking and heartwarming at the same time. Thomas had to calm himself down because he had the urge to punch everyone on that stupid island who never gave his Alexander a Christmas gift. Fuck them. 

As he tore away the paper, he started to slowly… slowly realize what was in his hands. Thomas held down his smile watching Alexander’s little face light up with glee It was a book.   
“Thomas…?” he breathed, finally working faster. It wasn’t just any book, he noticed; the title was in all golden, cursive letters. 

He stopped. Right there. He couldn’t go any further before looking up to Thomas with the sheen of tears glistening over his eyes.   
“Honey…” he almost whimpered, placing a hand over his mouth and trying not to blink whilst he slowly looked back.

A brand new, golden-page copy of Gulliver’s Travels.

“This is a special book for more than one reason, Alexander.” he spoke cooly, leaning forward with a grunt to push aside the rest of the wrapping.   
“Why don’t you open up the front cover and tell us what’s there.” he gave his boyfriend’s thigh a reassuring squeeze before sitting back slowly in the chair, absent-mindedly running his fingers over Lexi’s poofy tail. The cat seemed to know exactly who it’s dad was and was purring contently and rubbing the side of its face on Thomas’s bicep. 

Meanwhile, Alexander, with helplessly shaky hands, ran his fingers over the grooves of the cover, feeling the silky letters. His eyes darted all over the words, wanting to take it in like it would just disappear. He’d never… no one had ever given him something so beautiful. Fuck, he couldn’t cry in front of Thomas’s whole family, ESPECIALLY not in front of George freaking Washington. Out of the corner of his eye, Thomas nodded. 

The man exhaled a shaky breath, still overwhelmed and turned the cover over to reveal the inside of the book. And he gaped. 

No…

Thomas read his mind.   
“Yep. This is an original signed copy from the author, Jonothan Swift before his death.” There were gasps from around the room.   
Alexander couldn’t form words, his vision clouded up to this tiny little tunnel where all he could see was the loopy signature inked into the yellow page, clear as day in front of his eyes. 

“I’m going to cry.”   
Everyone “Aww”-ed but Alexander was seriously trying not to; it was becoming a critical concern. He fanned his face with his hands.   
“Fuck, I’m gonna cry.”  
“Language.”  
“Shut up, get me a towel.” Alexander just used his cravat to stave off his tears, exhaling with a shaky laugh and not sure if anyone else understood how difficult this was becoming. But Thomas seemed occupied. Not with Lexi this time; he had actually handed her off to Martha to hold for a few moments and he stood.   
All eyes turned to Thomas Jefferson as he rose above the crowd, a peculiar glint in his ebony eyes. 

Everyone saw the look in his eyes as he gazed down at Alexander, face softening before looking out at everyone. 

Mrs. Jefferson smiled to herself. 

“For those of you that don’t know, this book means a lot to Alexander and I.” he spoke, finding the eyes of the people in the room one by one. He had this… air about him that caused a respectful, mystical hush to fall over the parlor; even the children were quiet, watching. He cleared his throat and looked down at the floor for a moment. 

“We were reading it when I decided that I was going to tell him I loved him.” Mary put her hand to her heart and Thomas continued, “And looking back, even after everything, I realize that was still the greatest decision I’ve made in my life.” Faces softened around the room, nobody speaking or interrupting. Thomas swallowed, finding his words. 

“But our story isn’t perfect. It’s not even close; I don’t think anyone’s is.” He shrugged and nodded, glancing down at his lover and gaining the courage to go on.   
“There’s been more tears than I can count. There've been highs of laughing so hard at two A.M over something that shouldn’t be funny that we can’t breathe. There’s been awkward horse rides and way too much food and wine at three in the afternoon." The family giggled scandalously. 

Thomas's face grew more serious, "And there’s been low moments when I laid on the forest floor, looking up at the night sky with my leg bleeding under me and thinking....” Thomas’s face darkened with solemn sorrow and he nodded honestly out to the little crowd, lips pursed, “Thinking I’d be better off dead than without Alexander Hamilton.” he closed his eyes for a few moments, letting that sink in. Nodding. 

He caught his breath, going on. 

“It was just last night that I said something to Alexander that I’ve had some time to mull over.” he kept glancing around the room, taking the time to look in everyone’s eyes, everyone except Alexander.   
“I said that I don’t think I’ll ever get used to having him as my own.” He punctuated every word, letting his message be clear, “And that’s not because he leaves his shoes in the middle of the goddamn floor for me to trip over every single time.” Everyone laughed fondly, even Alexander who tried to roll his eyes in annoyance and failed. 

When it winded down, Thomas took a deep breath and continued.   
“I tried to express it but it just didn’t come out right. I said that every time I saw him, held him, felt him…” he gazed down at his lover, overwhelming passion brimming his eyes, “It felt like the fist time I’d ever done it and the last time I’d ever get to again.” Alexander nodded, blinking up into those eyes… those eyes… Thomas nodded, “And that is powerful to me. But the real reason behind that is that I’m falling.” he smiled up at his family, looking at each one of them. 

“I fell for Alexander a hell of a long time ago. But the thing is... I keep falling for him. Over and over again. Without fail. Every...Single... Time.” He nodded with a straight face, punching every word. He was dead serious.

Wait…

Alexander’s heart suddenly started to patter in his chest, ever so gradually accelerating and filling him with butterflies. Because... Thomas wasn’t explaining his gift anymore; he was far beyond that. Where… where was he going?   
Thomas swallowed. 

“You know, I asked myself, the day of the endorsement, what I saw in my future.” he shrugged, “As president. Afterwards. Beyond. What did I see?” he raised his arms to his sides, shaking his head with a frown, “I don't think I even THOUGHT. I just knew.” he dropped his arms, “When I look into my future, all I see is Alexander. All I see is him. Now. Then. Until the day that I die.”

“Thomas…” Alexander was breathing through an open mouth, trying to just breathe. Was this… could this be…? He couldn’t hear anything, everything was beginning to get foggy as he he listened. Thomas went on despite Alexander’s words, pressing on. 

“Out of the blue Alexander turned to me and he said to me ‘you and I, Thomas, we’re black and white. Day and night. Dark and light’.” He quoted precisely, enunciating so everyone could hear, “And he said, ‘and yet, I feel like everything in our lives, the war, Burr, the fear…” Thomas swallowed once again, and suddenly felt the tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. He had to stay calm if he was going to get through this. He closed them for a moment, looking up at the ceiling. 

“He said ‘it all happened just to lead me to you, Thomas…. You… are my legacy.” Thomas finished off. Shaking his head slowly. The family waited, their faces suspended in awe at the… POWER radiating from Thomas’s words, from Thomas’s speech. And everyone, including Alexander, was beginning to see it… They were all beginning to realize…

For a long time there was a silence of nothing more than the crackling of firewood in the heart. The earth was silent for this moment. Waiting for this moment. 

Thomas looked up from the floor, “And I agree with him. Every word... The day Alexander went to print the endorsement, he left the house and went to the press in the City. What he didn’t know is that I went to the city too.” Thomas smiled with a little laugh, “I went right after he’d left because that was the day I knew.” 

Mrs. Jefferson had a hand over her heart. It was happening. 

“And now, Alexander, is finally the time I’ve been waiting for. I’ve had to stop myself from doing this sooner out of selfishness, but there’s nowhere else I would rather do this than in front of all of the people that have been there on the crazy path that has all led up to this moment.” 

Alexander couldn’t breathe. Time had stopped, it MUST have stopped. This couldn’t be real.  
And he looked around the room, so many faces looking back at him with this… look in their eyes. The smae look Thomas reserved for him, that John did too, that Washington had when he called him, “My boy…”. The look that Mary had in her eyes when she held her babies or that Mrs. Jefferson had when she cupped Thomas’s cheek and gazed into his dark brown eyes… his father’s eyes. Love. It was all… love. 

And Thomas Jefferson reached into his coat pocket, fingertips finding the little velvet box, curling around the softness. He was shaking, but that was fine because Alexander was too. Everyone was. The whole world was shaking, and that was okay. 

With plenty of room behind him to do so, Thomas slowly… slowly lowered down onto one knee, eyes never leaving Alexander’s. The boy had his hand to his mouth, but his eyes were wide and silently streaming tears, falling over his hand and splashing one after the othe onto his coat. Over and over. He shook his head from side to side. 

Thomas’s lip quivered helplessly as his eyes welled with their own tears, a lump in his throat sitting heavily there. And he pulled out the tiny black box, holding it clear for Alexander and all of their loved ones to see. Thomas wanted the whole world to see it; he wanted to scream it to the rooftops, let it echo across America. He wanted everyone to know. 

“I want to feel this way for the rest of my life, Alexander….I want to see this look in your eyes every day until I die, I want to put it there. Every time. And there’s only one way I can do that, and there’s only one way I want to do that. With you.” His lip kept quivering and Alexander slowly lowered his hand from his face, showing the overwhelming flood of emotion. It was tearing through him, washing over him so hard it was almost painful. 

Thomas laughed through the tears, “Black and white, day and night, I don’t care. It doesn’t matter. I’m going to fall in love with you every day, Alexander. Over and over again. Without fail. Every… single… time…” he repeated himself, first tears spilling down his cheeks and falling to the floor, “If you’ll be my husband.” 

He lifted the lid of the box to show a shining silver band, glistening in the glare from the snow, a pattern engraved into it, weaving breathtakingly across the surface. 

“Alexander Hamilton… will you marry me?” he was sobbing now. He never sobbed, and he was sobbing now, UGLY sobbing too. If he cried, he did it silently, but now it was hopeless. There were sniffles and snot all around the room as John cried just as loudly, hugged by Lafs and Herc, while James had silent tears running down his face with George’s hand squeezing his own. Anna and Mary were a lost cause just the same and Randolph was self conscious about it, but he was doing the same. 

And Alexander…   
He couldn’t find any words. He couldn’t find anything in either of the languages he knew to express how he was doing in that moment. How the entire world finally all made sense. How even though he couldn’t speak or breathe everything was so clear. Thomas… his Thomas, his lover, his best friend, his partner, his husband, he simply couldn’t SAY anything.

Thomas let the tears stream down his face, holding the ring.   
“Please?” he laughed, sniffing through the inevitable snot, “My… my arms are getting a little tired.” he sob-laughed which made his chest ache. 

And then it SURGED, so powerful it was destructive. Finally…. Finally Alexander found the words. Well, he found one: the only one that mattered. Everything came together and now he couldn’t stop speaking, the words of the world were around him, inside of him, through him, BURSTING from him. 

“Yes. Yes! Yes! Yes!” He leaped from his spot and smacked into Thomas, barrelling him over and sending both of them careening to the floor with a thud, knocking the wind out of his lover.   
The people in the room laughed too, a mess of tears and snot as they hugged one another, weeping with joy and moved by Thomas’s words. They tumbled together to the ground, rolling so that Thomas was on top of him, arms wrapped around his little body, holding him under his coat. 

They laughed and sobbed at the same time, making those hiccuping, ugly little choking sounds that hurt the throat, but neither one cared. They were disasters but neither one care.   
“You want the ring?” Thomas opened his hand, silver band between his fingers. 

“Yes, y-yes please.” Alexander sniffled, eyelashes dark and wet from crying. Thomas smiled, wiping his nose on his sleeve before taking Alexander’s hand delicately in his own and sliding the ring over his finger. Alexander watched with rapture, never letting his eyes stray for a millisecond, never wanting to forget this moment, exactly how it went, exactly how it felt. He never wanted to forget this feeling. 

“Yours-yours says ‘Jefferson’ on the inside of the band and mine says ‘Hamilton’.” Thomas recited, laughing as he placed his matching one on his own finger and interlaced his hand with Alexander’s listening to the silver clink against one another. 

Thomas sniffled through the snot.   
“Please kiss me, Thomas.” He ugly sobbed, closing his eyes as Thoams dove in, squeezing him to his body and pressing hard onto his mouth, eyes screwed shut as he tried to cope with his overwhelming love for his Hamilton. His dear Hamilton. 

“I love you…” Alex sobbed into his mouth as they pressed together, a mix of wet tears messily smearing their faces. Thomas just wept and pulled him closer, never, never wanting to let go. Wedding bands sliding together, touching, Alexander held his husband on the floor, surrounded by the people that loved him. He was… home. He had a…. A family.   
He was finally home. 

“I love you too, Alexander. I love you.” Thomas wept, burying his face against his lover's.   
The snow began to fall outside once again, and the boys just sobbed and kissed, forgetting the world... just for a moment. 

And everything was alright.


	51. Your Obedient Servant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh! So sorry for this uncharacteristic wait; this week has been hectic, but I'm overjoyed to be back! Read on, loves! 😄❤️

Aaron Burr gently toed aside the empty whiskey bottle, listening to its glass roll across the hardwood floor and find its home somewhere in the dark corner of the room, bumping against the wall out of sight. The man sniffed, hunkering down deeper into his armchair and stared… just stared at the dancing, flickering flames of the slowly dying fire in the hearth. 

He often sat there in that chair, wasting away in front of that fireplace. He had taken to it since the fateful day of the election, but he didn’t acknowledge the change. He didn’t acknowledge the exponential growth of empty whiskey bottles he drained each night, the stinking ashtrays smoking unseen in the dark. There only seemed to be one idea he could comprehend anymore, one idea he could ever seem to grasp. 

Burr sighed and closed his eyes, leaning back into the chair and listening to it creak. He could still see the dancing flames even in the darkness of his own eyelids, burned into his sight. He watched them, unable to comprehend any time passing, yet it did. Only one thought could play in his mind, twisting and torturing him like invisible shackles, keeping him awake at night. The room. He could never be in the room. 

Burr could feel the bitter hatred rising vaguely in him like bile as it so often did, turning his mood sour in an instant. Hamilton.   
Burr’s mood darkened, fingers curling slowly on the arm of the chair. He’d keep him from the room as long as he was alive.

As long as he was alive. Hamilton would never cease; he takes and he takes. So close, Burr thought, angrily snuffing his cigar in his ashtray, feeling it sputter and die between his fingers. So close and Hamilton took it all away without hardly lifting a finger.   
As long as Hamilton was alive, Burr had come to realize. As long as Hamilton was alive he’d take…. He remained in his chair. 

Suddenly a ringing note of clarity echoed in the man’s head.   
His thoughts lurched to a stop. 

Burr opened his eyes, looking around the room. It was the same as always, nothing had changed. But something was shifted. He felt… drawn to something. His thoughts were clear, clearer than they’d been in months. He paused, waiting for a sign. Something, something had finally clicked. Something had finally shifted into place in the back of his head; he didn’t understand it yet. 

The man scrambled up from his chair, sliding the rug underfoot as he clunked over to his dresser, yanking out the bottom drawer and scattering the contents, pushing things aside in search of who knows what. The soft fabric brushed his fingers until…

His eyes widened. 

He understood. Slowly, carefully, the man produced his antique flintlock from the depths of the drawer, heart thudding in his chest. It glinted slightly in the light of the fire, flames flickering across its surface. The clarity made sense now. The moment of truth was well understood. 

“As long as he is alive…” Burr whispered, turning the gun in his hand and letting the light refract off of it from different angles. He’d kept him from the room where it happens...  
for the last time. 

**

Thomas awoke with a deep inhale, subconsciously groping his arm across the sun-dappled bed sheets for Alexander with a foggy, half-dreaming mind. His hand hit something soft and Alexander made a grumpy little whine, jerking away as Thomas poked him in the eye. The man grumbled, sleepily placing the balls of his feet up on Thomas’s thighs, because even in his sleep he knew what would annoy Thomas. 

“Mrrrr…. Cold…” Thomas groaned muffledly into the pillow, grappling loosely for Alexander’s waist and reeling him to his body with a vaguely disgruntled huff. Alex just kept his eyes closed, shuffling into him and settling down as if to go right back to sleep. Thomas was so very tempted as well. It was so peaceful in there, so warm even in mid-winter. Who didn’t want to curl up in the covers with their fiance and sleep away an entire Wednesday? 

“Come on baby… We said we’d do it early today…” He mumbled into Alexander’s hair, struggling to open his eyes. Alex just shoved deeper into Thomas like he was trying to shut him out.   
“Mmm…. Five more minutes…”   
“Pffgh--your hair’s in my mouth.” Thomas spat, tongue out as Alexander just hummed against his chest.   
“Goodnight. Treasurer is closed today. Come back next Fall.” Alex nodded off, starting to drift slowly away before Thomas interrupted him with a sigh, rolling onto his back and hauling Alexander on top of him with a grunt. He looked up into that groggy face, placing a hand on either cheek and slapping gently with both. 

“Wake up. Wedding planning time.”   
“No.” Alex complained, letting his head fall down to Thomas’s chest and wrapping his arms and legs around him. He could fall asleep up there too; it was more comfortable anyway.   
“You know those clocks that only chime at a certain time? I’m putting one in here so you have a heart attack every morning when you’re SUPPOSED to get your ass out of bed.” 

“Mmm…” Alex hummed, blearily opening his brown eyes to gaze down at Thomas. He posted his chin up on his chest, gradually waking up and becoming more alert.   
“Why would I need something loud and annoying to wake me up every morning; I already have you.”   
“Fuck you.”   
Alexander just shrugged, stiffly pulling himself up to sit on Thomas’s pelvis.  
“I’m down.” He grinned happily. So NOW he was awake. Thomas rolled his head back in annoyance as Alexander swiveled his hips over Thomas’s in tiny circles, “I can feel this morning wood; let’s do it.”   
“No. Wedding planning, you whore.” 

Alexander completely ignored him as per usual, tugging down Thomas’s pants to mid thigh to pop out his cock and sitting on his legs. Thomas sighed, and Alex lifted his head, staring right in Thomas’s eyes as he twitched a provocative brow and licked his palm, slicking it with spit.   
“Don’t you dare.” Thomas growled, but it was hopeless. The immigrant stroked his fiance twice, hard and firm. 

“Why are you like this, Alexander?” Thomas just shook his head in disgusted awe as Alex scooted back forward, lifting up to position himself over Thomas’s cock and then slide down, inch by torturous inch. His eyes snapped open as soon as he popped in the head, clearly overestimating how much he could take without warming up.   
“OH Shit shit shit shit shit.” Alexander quickly chanted, squeezing his eyes shut as he curled his toes and slid all the way down on Thomas. The man was glad to see him struggle to take his cock and smirked smugly. 

“How you feeling right about now?” Thomas laughed amusedly through his nose, lifting his arms and placing them leisurely behind his head, “Karma’s a bitch, ain’t it?”  
Alexander finally bottomed out and sat heavily on his pelvis, eyes wide and a little out of breath.   
“Perfect. Never been better.” he panted and tossed his hair, slicking it back with a definitely not shaking hand. Thomas just grunted, thrusting his hips with minimal effort a couple times. 

“Are you always going to be this tight?”   
“Now and forever, my dear husband.” Alexander smiled sweetly, bouncing up and down a bit less than gracefully on Thomas’s cock. Thomas just rested back like a king, so impossibly in love with his partner that telling him to stop being so happy would break his tender heart.   
“I’ll never be your husband if you keep distracting us from the wedding planning, Mr. Secretary.” 

Alexander grinned like an angel, hair bouncing on his shoulders, illuminated by the morning sunlight as he continued to do the same.   
“Apologies, Mr. President. A flower selection will be on your desk by noon, your excellency.”  
“Damn straight.” Thomas nodded curtly, propping his head up with a pillow so he could see Alexander one hundred and ten percent. He sighed, placing his big, warm hands on Alexander’s thighs and rubbing them up and down, taking care of the inner area. 

“You gonna wake me up every day with sex when we’re married?”   
“Only if you cook for me every day when we’re married.”   
“I already cook for your skinny ass every day.” Thomas grumbled, gripping onto Alexander’s hip bones and holding them firmly for leverage. Alex bit his lip as Thomas lifted him up and down in perfect timing with his thrusts, hips smacking onto Alexander’s ass at a faster pace now. The boy swallowed, heart rate accelerating. 

“We gonna fight like an old married couple?”  
“Alexander, we already fight like an old married couple.” Thomas rolled his eyes.   
“Oh, yeah.” Thomas’s nails were digging into his flesh now, pounding him ruthlessly. Alex couldn’t help his smile, already fucked-silly.   
“We gonna pick each other’s clothes.”   
“Done.”   
“Bathe and sleep together.”   
“Done and done.”   
“Help each other with Cabinet work even though nobody knows we do it.”   
“Done, done, aaaaaand done.” Thomas grunted, fervently fucking his little finace. Alexander threw his arms up in the air in catharsis. 

“We’re already married, goddamnit!” He complained, “We’ve BEEN married for fucking ever.”   
“Not officially.”   
“Let’s fucking elope Thomas. Run off. Live in the woods. Make tons of kids.”   
Alexander just talked and talked and talked as Thomas was fucking him. 

“How the hell are we going to make any kids, Alexander?” Thomas grumbled irritated, “We already got one on the way.”  
“Uhhh…” Alexander trailed off, looking down at the bed sheets, “Shit, you got me there.”   
“So let’s MARRY,” Thomas panted, out of breath, “And goddamnit, bitch, do some work, I’m fucking killing myself down here.” 

“Right, sorry.” Alex snapped back to reality, contributing more to the group effort and bending over for a kiss. Thomas panted into his mouth, licking in to suppress one of Alexander’s low moans when the angle-change pressed Thomas’s head to his prostate, hot and leaking precum. 

Thomas had a point, Alexander thought as he opened and closed his mouth against his fiance’s, heart warming as he thought about marrying and their child on the way. Every time he thought of walking down that aisle… of holding their baby in his arms for the first time… he had to physically stop himself before getting too emotional and completely losing his shit. Because he would. And he had; he’d learned that the hard way when they'd told George and James the good news (an embarrassing, embarrassing moment when he'd started bawling). 

Almost immediately after their engagement, Alexander was nagging Thomas about kids--to Thomas’s surprise. He thought he’d definitely be the one begging for kids right after marriage, but Alexander wanted kids, or a kid. But the problem now wasn’t that they were in disagreement about having one, but that they couldn’t decide HOW to do it. 

There was the option of adoption, but Thomas was being picky about the child looking like Alexander; there was nothing in the world he wanted more than a little Hamilton. Alexander argued right back that he wanted their kid to look like Thomas, and so they ended up back where they started in a full loop of, “Well I can’t get you pregnant, asshole!”   
“We can try.”   
“How in the world--Alexander put your pants back on this instant.”   
“No, no, maybe it’ll work this time--ow! Okay, okay, stop--ow! Look, pants on, see? Pants on.” 

But the lovers were in luck, it seemed. Their dilemma went on for the UNBEARABLE length of a single day before--without any knowledge of their talk--Thomas’s doppelgänger sister, Jane, approached them to inquire about if they’d ever want a surrogate mother for their child. 

They only exchanged one glance in that moment. One glance to know. 

And it was done. It was all there, right in front of them. A true, pure, Hamilton-Jefferson blooded child. And to add, Jane’s striking likeness to Thomas! God, if there was ever going to be a child that looked like Alexander AND Thomas, this was going to be it. The only obstacle to climb over now was the crippling awkwardness... could that even be avoided? So they all took a deep breath and sat down together like the adults they were to get on the same page. They all knew what had to be done, and that it would be done consensually for the benefit of Alexander and Thomas, despite all awkwardness, so once everyone had given full and confident consent, it could happen. 

Of course, walking away, Thomas made sure to make himself very clear.   
(“Anyone else, Alexander. If we were doing this with anyone else other than my sister, I’d be supervising the whole time.”   
“Thomas. For the last time. I don’t like women. I… I’m LITERALLY engaged to a man.”  
“Yeah, and I don’t like your cock being anywhere out of my sight.”  
“Alright, want the kid or not? We’re doing this, you pussy.” ) 

Jane missed her cycle within the first week, and on receiving the letter from her, both lovers broke down right there at the dinner table and cried,--and oh no, not-in-the-seats crying--crumpled to the floor and SOBBED, not holding back a single thing from one another. The floodgates just exploded all at once; everything had happened so fast. It had been extremely confusing for the rapidly growing kitten, Lexi, to see her dads hugging and making loud noises over a piece of paper, so she proceeded to eat their dinners. The realization of this broke up their little sob-fest, but the emotion hadn’t truly worn off, not for a single day of the two months that had passed. 

Alexander would wake up each morning and roll to face Thomas and just stare, the amount of pure, raw, love washing over him and knocking him over every single time, so much he didn’t know what to DO with it all. And when Thomas’s eyes would finally flutter open, those long, dark lashes sweeping his face, Alexander would smile--a hidden smile for just the two lovers to see in the seclusion of their little alcove bed. 

“I’m gonna be a dad.” he would whisper so quietly, unable to contain the words, “We’re gonna be dads, Thomas.”   
The man’s heart would melt and fall apart right there on the spot, tucking his fiance against his chest. 

“I know, baby. One step at a time.” and press a kiss to his forehead, reminding him that no matter how fast things had gone, they were going to get married first. And the process so far had been an enjoyable, yet a tedious one: they had extra hoops to jump through because of the nature of their forbidden relationship. How does one explain the need for an eight-foot white wedding arbor? Or twenty identical white chairs or a surplus of white roses and scarlet lilacs? 

Alexander snarled and clawed at Thomas’s back, leaving red nail marks where he had grappled. Thomas had flipped him over onto his back a while ago and had both hands around Alexander's throat, bringing the two of them closer and closer, edging them up to it. 

Alex curled his toes and gasped, legs jerking into a bent position as Thomas pounded his sweet spot brutally over and over again.   
“Please… daddy please.” Alexander clambered messily at Thomas’s back for a few more moments before falling apart, slamming his palms down to the bed to claw at the sheets, balling them up and twisting.   
“Use your words. What do you want.”   
“C-Cum.” Alexander managed, eyes rolling back and squeezing shut. Thomas just heaved an annoyed sigh and brought one hand behind him to smack Alexander’s thigh with a brutal, flat palm. The boy hitched a sob and flinched. 

“What the hell was that? No ‘please’? No nothing? Come on, Alexander.” He sneered, thrusting so hard and so quickly that Alexander’s mind fogged up for a moment, nearly going black.   
“P...Please, daddy, may I…”   
“May you…?” Thomas prompted with a drawling snarl, lacing both hands aggressively up in Alexander’s hair to force him to look in his eyes. The boy’s lips were parted, gasping for words as he struggled to focus his eyes on his dom.   
“May… I please cum… sir....” he finally spat out, ribs fluttering against his chest with whimpers as he desperately tried to hold back until Thomas cummed first. In a movement like a striking snake, Thomas lunged forward, clamping down on Alexander’s entire throat with his teeth, sinking them into him animalistically. His canines pricked Alex’s skin as Thomas hammered five thrusts harder than any before and pulled out at the last moment, cumming powerfully on Alexander’s little belly with a primal growl. Finally. 

The immigrant arched his back and squeezed his eyes shut, letting out a caterwaul as he followed suit, cumming completely untouched onto his belly too, shaking with the destructive power of the release. His screaming died down to pitiful whimpers as the mind-numbing orgasm washed over him in deep, reverberating waves, taking his body away on its own.   
“Hahhhh….Mmmm….” Alexander trailed vaguely, shivering in tiny shudders on the sweaty bed. 

His legs twitched as Thomas laughed, sitting back on his heels and running a hand through his damp, raven hair. He watched his little fiance slowly come back down from his pleasure, trying to tap back into reality through the uncontrollable shivers and failing a couple times. 

“You’re cute when you’re ruined.”   
Alexander just released a low groan, fanning his legs slowly, “Shup ut… Wait, no...Shut up.” He slurred.  
“Ha.” Thomas scooted forward, gently pulling Alexander up to cradle in his lap and brush his sweaty hair out of his face for him. 

“Give your husband a kiss.”   
“No.” Alexander turned his cheek so that Thomas’s nose bumped his cheekbone, flopping his head down on Thomas’s shoulder like a toddler.   
“I think you mean, ‘yes, daddy. Of course, daddy’.” Thomas growled playfully, nuzzling into Alexander’s face and pressing a kiss to his wet lips. Alexander exhaled deeply against Thomas’s face, relaxing in his arms and allowing his tongue entry to slide over his. 

“Mm.” Thomas pulled away with a wet sound, “It’s already eight o’ clock, so you officially lost breakfast privileges.”   
Thomas mumbled, trailing two fingers down to Alexander’s belly, making him gasp at the touch when he swirled his finger over their cum, scooping it up. Alexander was too well behaved to not do exactly what he knew he was supposed to, and opened wide, pretty pink tongue out for Thomas’s finger. 

“Good boy.” Thomas grumbled, pressing his fingers into Alexander’s mouth and letting him close on them, tongue sliding over and between to lick up every last drop. The man’s eyes fluttered closed angelically as he swallowed, savoring the taste and licking his lips. 

Thomas watched him in bewilderment until he finally opened his eyes once again.   
“What?”   
“I don’t understand how you like the taste.”  
“Yeah, well I don’t understand how you don’t.”  
“Touché.” Thomas frowned in consideration, swiveling his legs off the bed and lifting Alexander with a groan. 

“Up. Get dressed.” Thomas dumped him in front of the dresser.  
“What, no bath?” Alexander complained, yanking the door open disgruntledly.   
“No. You can only get out of planning for so long, Alexander, before I put the foot down. Dress bitch.”

“Mhm.” Alex hummed sarcastically, removing his clothes from the hanger and letting Thomas have his turn.   
“That’s a very roundabout way of saying that you wanna go for round two at some point.”   
“Dress.”   
“You don’t fool me, jackass.”   
“Dress.” 

Five more minutes of Thomas dragging Alexander through the process before he dumped his ass in the seat before his desk, rounding it to lower to his own with an exhausted sigh.   
“You’re a huge pain in my ass, you know that?” He shook his head, scooting the chair in and selecting one of his beloved quills.   
Alexander snorted, taking one for himself and cutting Thomas off to get to the ink bottle first. 

“Right back at ya, nine inches.” He taunted. Lexi padded in quietly and rubbed up against Thomas’s calf, purring when she saw him. Thomas looked under the desk and started speaking to her in his baby voice, so Alex knew what was up. He watched fondly as his fiance bent down and scooped up their little tuxedo kitten, placing her on his lap and stroking her absent mindedly. 

“You treat that cat like a queen.”   
“She is a queen.” Thomas spoke only at her in that high voice, rubbing under her chin on the white ruffly part that they called her “cravat”. Alexander laughed.   
“I can’t imagine how you’re going to treat our daughter.”   
Thomas couldn’t hide the grin even though he tried; it peeked at the corners of his mouth at the mention, “How do you know we’re having a girl?” 

Alexander cast Thomas a sparkling little glance over the tops of his glasses, tearing out a sheet of parchment.   
“I just have a feeling. You can’t challenge the gut feeling.”   
“Well,” Thomas slid his own glasses onto his face, returning the same look, “If she is a girl, she will be the most radiant princess of our young nation. An Amazon warrior.”   
“An Amazon warrior with your eyes.” Alexander added.  
Thomas paused, dark eyes darting over his parchment, “Your eyes.”he battled back.   
“Yours.” 

Their little sequence was interrupted by three firm knocks on the door. Both heads whipped around, peering towards the entrance hall. They weren’t expecting anyone; perhaps it was the mail? Thomas heaved an exasperated sigh and flopped his back against his chair, tossing his glasses onto the desk with indignation. 

“For fuck’s sake.” he grumbled, pushing his chair back irritably and scooping Lexi to his chest, cradling her as he walked off to answer.   
“Hallelujah.” Alexander smacked Thomas’s butt as he walked by, earning him a curled lip and a warning growl. Thomas pointed an aggressive finger at him. 

“You. Keep working. Not getting out of this.” He snapped strictly, clunking away. Alexander snorted lightly to himself, yeah right, he thought as he propped his feet up on the desk. He’d learned some obedience for his dom, but he’d always be a little brat just the same. He tossed his hair behind him and laid his hands behind his head, stretching out. What a morning already. He could get used to starting every day with an orgasm. 

He just relaxed, watching two squirrels search for seeds in the glaring snow banks outside of Thomas’s office for a while until he returned. His boots clunked back into the room with a sniff. Alexander turned his head around to glimpse his fiance over his shoulder and flutter his eyelashes.   
“Who was it, love?”  
“Don’t try that with me; I know you sat here and did jack shit.” Alex huffed a defeated sigh and flopped back in his chair.

“And you’re gonna feel that disobedience tonight, let me make that crystal clear.”   
“Yayyy…” Alexander monotoned unenthusiastically, knowing he’d gotten himself into trouble yet again. And he loved it, but he wouldn’t let that asshole know. 

“Mail. It’s for you.” Thomas grumbled, dropping it in front of Alexander.   
“Can I read it?”   
“No.” Thomas cocked his head, lowering down into his chair and lacing his fingers daintily on the desk.   
“We’re working now and I’m holding onto this until you make a tablecloth selection.”  
“You’re holding a letter for ransom.” Alexander blinked, unimpressed. Thomas shrugged.  
“An incentive.”   
“I hate you.”  
“Eyes. Paper. Now.” 

Alexander put his head down and began to work, his quill scratching familiarly on the parchment. But… ever so slowly his eyes were reeled to the letter sitting plainly on the desk. It entrapped his senses, engulfing him for a scary moment before he shook it off, blinking rapidly. His heart was fluttering in his chest for no reason, and he returned back to his work, bewildered.   
What the fuck? 

He couldn’t put his finger on it… not yet. But something--an unknown, inexplicable force--kept pulling his attention to the letter. Something about it... it was unavoidable. As Thomas worked diligently, Alexander couldn’t keep his head on straight, his eyes drifting unwittingly to the slanted black letters inscribed on the envelope, and then snapping back to his own paper, remembering the task at hand. He was repeatedly shaking off the uneasy feeling of being... watched. The unnerving sensation that the grandfather clock in the corner of the office was ticking louder than usual, echoing in the back of his mind. 

Five hours later, just before one, Thomas inhaled deeply, drawing Alexander’s attention up from his parchment. The man, stretched, placing his quill back in the ornate, polished wooden holder and sighed, tossing his smooth dark hair. 

“Done?” Alex broke the long-standing silence, rolling up his sheet, “I’m starving.”   
“Yeah, wanna make me lunch?”   
Alexander paused, looking around him with wide eyes.   
“....No, do YOU wanna make me lunch?” 

Thomas’s fond smile broke into a full on laugh as he extracted the glasses from his face and placed them in their usual spot.   
“What?” Alexander laughed awkwardly, looking side to side again. Thomas just scooted his chair back, draping Lexi over his shoulder.   
“The look on your face when I asked you to cook. Priceless.”   
“For fuck’s sake…” Alexander rolled his eyes as Thomas strolled by him, tousling his hair.   
“Afraid of cooking. Don’t blame you, remember when you almost burnt the house down?”   
“Almost.” Alexander grumbled into his arm, advocating for himself. Thomas was already sighing highly, padding off into the entry hall. 

“You can read your letter now, just be around in ten.”   
“Kay.” Alexander called. 

But to his own surprise, his voice faltered. 

Thomas stopped, sensing it in a heartbeat. The man turned around, hand on the threshold.   
“You okay?” 

Alexander swallowed, fingertips already ghosting over the dry paper of the envelope. He didn’t look back at Thomas, just at the letter, the uneasy feeling already creeping back in.   
“Fine.” he strained and swallowed again, “I’ll be out in ten.” 

Thomas knew something was wrong. Right off the bat. But he also trusted that Alexander would tell him about it if he knew what was wrong, and so, he decided, he would wait, despite every part of him that wanted to interrogate and press him.  
“Okay.” he shrugged, disappearing reluctantly off into the house, leaving Alexander alone in the silence. Just him and the letter.

Alexander brushed his fingertips over the lip, pulling it closer to himself; it felt like the whole room got a couple of degrees darker in an instant, falling into a hushed silence too. Lexi brushed against Alexander’s leg and he actually flinched, jolting in his seat in fear. His heart hammered against his chest and he vigorously shook his head.   
“Christ….”   
This was ridiculous. Ridiculous. 

Alexander took a deep breath and tore open the envelope, slipping out the folded letter within. He let it fall into his lap.  
As soon as it fell--in slow motion, it felt like--to his lap, the clock in the corner struck one. Alexander listened to the chimes, carefully lifting the parchment from his lap and unfolding it, crease after crease. He caught glimpses of the dark ink, the slanted letters.

He knew the handwriting before he began reading. And his heart plummeted miles into his stomach.

He could hesitate no longer, skimming the page for the beginning and gliding his eyes along the lines, chest pounding. 

“Dear Alexander, 

My old friend, you are quite aware that I am slow to anger. I pride myself with being cool-minded, Hamilton, the inverse of yourself. I always have been. I always have been observant, patient, generous, tolerant. However, you have given me years, Hamilton. Years to draw the line. I have waited, waited and waited as you scatter my name through the mud, years watching you tear away from me the opportunities of my success. And I never drew the line.  
I draw the line today, good sir.”

Alex’s face went numb. His whole body went numb; he couldn’t feel anything. It was Burr. Burr was writing to him months after he'd thought everything was finally over. Alexander’s fingers fumbled at the page, desperately finding his place and continuing. 

“It amazes me how you play Jefferson in a game of chess in which you control both sides, Mr. Hamilton. It amazes me how after all of the truth I brought forth to the man’s eyes, he is still a fool blinded to the truth.” 

A searing shot of anger laced through Alexander’s chest, lips parting in outrage. 

“Clever of you, Hamilton. I always knew you’d stop at nothing to climb to the top, to climb from the filthy, stinking hole of a Caribbean wasteland that you belong in. Even if it meant seducing your political enemy in fear of losing your precious position as he rises to office.”

Alexander felt the rage slowly mounting in his body, surging within him as a powerful wave of fury. 

“But clearly, dear sir, you are not the fool as I wish you were: Jefferson takes that title, as he is the one who has fallen for your disgusting little act of subterfuge. He may be too indolent to see it, Hamilton, but I am not so blinded. He may not see you for what you truly are, but I am not so ignorant. 

You are, Mr. Secretary, a conniving little snake, so desperate for glory, so eager for validation that you are not the whore child that you truly are. Your endorsement proves to me, Hamilton, that you know what is true deep within yourself. Your whore mother will always leave a mark on her bastard child. Your degenerate father will always leave a mark on his bastard child. That mark presents itself in your filthy attachment to President Jefferson. 

You do not love him, Hamilton. You love your legacy; you love the idea of being detached from the rotting island of filth that you were raised on by skanks and thieves. Your desperation to prove yourself has finally taken its toll on me, Alexander. It’s last toll. 

You call me immoral, Hamilton, a dangerous disgrace. If you wish to challenge my words, to prove yourself like a real man, take up your gun, sir. Take up your gun and meet me at Weehawken, dawn, and we shall put an end to your filthy, scheming lies. And if you do not arrive, I shall know. I shall know that you are in agreement with every truth that I have spoken, and you surrender. Forever hold your silence. 

We duel before the sun is in the sky. Challenge my words, Hamilton. Or surrender.

I have the honor to be your obedient servant,

A. Burr” 

For a long time, the world was silent. 

For a long time… nothing moved. 

Just the clock. Ticking. Ticking in the corner, amplified in the soundlessness, as if it were counting down. Running out of time.

Alexander did not blink, did not look down to the letter as he folded it up quietly in his lap, lips parted, face drained of all color. He tucked it delicately into his coat pocket with a slightly trembling hand. There was no emotion in existence to describe how he was in that moment. The fear coursed through his veins, the downright rage roared in his ears. The shame burned in the pit of his stomach. 

And the words, they echoed in his head. Whore mother. Bastard child. Filthy attachment. 

Alexander quietly stood from his chair, padding out of the office and into their bedroom. The echoing words seemed to follow him, whispering in his ears.   
Legacy… Legacy…. Legacy…

They surrounded him, engulfed him as he snagged his overcoat off the hanger, shrugging the heavy garment over his shoulder. He had to get out. He had to clear his head. He had to do SOMETHING goddamnit. He was so distraught, so… out of it that he had no idea when Thomas had entered the room too. 

As soon as he saw Alexander’s ghost-white face, his stomach lurched; he knew something wasn’t right. His brows swooped down. 

“I said ten minutes, jackass, what are you doing?” he snapped harshly out of impulse.   
Alexander’s eyes darted up to him, distracted and clearly distressed. Perhaps Thomas had used the wrong choice of tone, because Alexander mirrored his irritated face, lashing right back out at him with biting chilliness. 

“Nothing.” he spat, tossing his hair out of the back of his overcoat and placing his hat firmly on his head. Thomas did NOT like his tone or his body language, but he was struck slightly speechless when Alexander stuffed his hands in his pockets and turned as if to leave the room. 

“Where are you going?” He scoffed incredulously, not halting Alexander in the slightest. The smaller man proceeded darkly to the exit, not looking back.   
“It’s none of your goddamn business. Get off my ass, man.” Alexander snarled harshly, slinging the door open in front of him. Thomas only hesitated for one dumbstruck moment before lunging forward, catching the slamming door with his palm before it boomed shut in his face. 

He took two strides to snag the back of Alexander’s collar and yank him around, manipulating him to face him. Thomas bared his teeth as he held jerking Alexander in place.   
“Get off me.”   
“Alright. I don’t know what your problem is, pal, but something’s up and it is one hundred percent my business, bastard.” He spat. 

A deadly silence followed, the word… that word ringing in the empty hallways, echoing right back into Alexander.   
Bastard…   
The smaller man screwed up his face, jerking Thomas away with one violent shove, straightening his collar in disgust. Thomas could only watch as the true weight of whatever the hell was going on settled heavily in the pit of his stomach. 

“I’m going for a ride. Okay? Do I need permission to breathe too? That alright with you?” He sneered, turning away and thudding down the north passage, coat fluttering behind him. He reached the end and wrenched open the door, fuming. Thomas was left standing just outside their bedroom, completely wordless. This was... This was far worse than he’d thought; this was serious. Something was seriously wrong and it was beginning to scare Thomas. He knew he should be acting with his brain, using his head to calmly sort this out, but tempers were already high in the house. 

Thomas screwed up his lips.   
“Don’t you walk out that door.” he barked, pointing at Alexander from where he stood. The boy just scoffed, stepping outside onto the snowy porch and slamming it shut behind him, icicles breaking off the porch deck and shattering. Thomas just watched, lips parted in such utter shock. Something shattered within him too. What… WHAT had just happened?  
He couldn’t find it in himself to move for a long period of time… devastated. 

Not much could shake Thomas Jefferon, no. If anyone was known for being insusceptible to his own emotions, it was Thomas. But not with Alexander. That boy was the only one who could affect him. And STRONGLY at that. And now he stood, completely at a loss of what to do.

"Alexander?" he whispered to the empty house. 

**

William Van Ness held his hat to his head, padding quietly yet quickly up the stairs. A thread of dread pulling at his heart. It had been there since the moment he dropped the letter to the floor and rushed to the street, waving frantically for a cab. It was eight o’ clock at night now, late for a visit, but he was not planning to sit down for tea, no. This was far… far more complicated, far more critical than a friendly visit. 

The boy stripped off one glove placing his cold hand on the chilly knob and turning, bursting into the room with a flurry of cold air from outside and rustling fabric. He should knock, but any idea of courtesy was cast aside now, long gone. The place was a mess, as it had been for months, and the boy peeked over to the fireplace, noting Burr in his usual place of residence. 

The man inhaled a calm, deep breath, eyes never straying from the flames.   
“William. Come so soon?”   
“Burr.” The boy blurted out, still panting heavily with a stitch in his side. He placed a hand on the post of Bur’s bed, holding himself up through the exhaustion.   
“You can’t do this. This is madness.” he clipped through gasps. Burr did not move. He did not respond. The boy just ran a hand through his hair. 

“I pray you haven’t sent the letter yet.” He pleaded with his voice. There was no answer.   
“Tell me you haven’t sent the letter--”   
“It’s been done.” The man’s cold, slimy voice finally drawled from where he sat, placing a hand under his chin. William just watched him, at a loss of words. He was panicking; there had to be a way to end this now before it got any worse, before it turned into something horrible. He opened his mouth to begin his point but to his surprise, Burr spoke first. 

“I composed it elegantly, meticulously including every detail of his life that he despises.” he stared into the fire, counting off the items, “His mother. His father. His home. Jefferson. It is done, and he is coming. There’s not a way in the world that he would turn his cheek to such insults.” 

“Burr.” The boy began again as if speaking slowly to someone who was genuinely scaring him, “Please take my words to heart. This is not the way to end this.”   
“This is the only way to end this.”  
“This. Is not the solution.” The boy caught sight of the glittering muzzle of the gun in the firelight and gulped, fear searing through his chest. 

“It is too late. I have made my decision, and I highly recommend that you don’t challenge me, boy.”   
Burr was strict in this command, leaving no room for further argument as his tone darkened dangerously. That was it. In that moment, William, Burr’s second, knew that there was no force on earth that was going to stop the man from doing what he was about to do. Despite everything in his being screaming for him to fight back… William caved. 

“I…” he sputtered quietly, “Will be at Weehawken in the morning.” He dipped his head, backing out of the door.  
“Yes.” Burr responded, lifting his chin ever so slightly as he watched the ashes in the hearth simmer and burn. 

“You will.”


	52. The World is Wide Enough

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, loves! Stay tuned for next chapter, and stay healthy! I love all of you so much! ☺️❤️😊

It was nearly eleven at night when Alexander quietly slid his feet out of his snowy boots, placing them by the backdoor and carefully, carefully turning the knob. His billowing breath disappeared into the night as the wall of warm air engulfed him, stepping into the parlor and rubbing his freezing hands together.

He looked around surreptitiously. It was quiet in there, a fire lay dying in the marble fireplace, crackling and popping weakly. Lexi was curled up in a ball on the ottoman, little furry side rising and falling peacefully in her sleep. Alex padded silently across the floor, believing Thomas was already asleep. 

“Nice of you to show up.” A voice shattered the silence, jolting Alexander to a lurching stop. He nearly slipped on the slick floor, heart exploding in his chest at the shock. Alex sputtered, whipping his head around to see Thomas was sitting in a chair by the fire, so still that he hadn’t even seen him. Alexander ran a hand through his damp hair, skin prickling irritably. 

“Jesus, thanks for the heart attack.”   
Thomas uncrossed his legs and placed his feet on the floor. His face was shadowed by the low firelight, sharp-featured and ominous.   
“I can say the same for you. Care to tell me where you’ve been?”   
“Care to leave me alone?” 

“Alexander.” Thomas spoke calmly, raising from his chair and resting one hand on the back, “Please tell me where you’ve been.” he blinked, totally in control. His face was emotionless, waiting for Alexander to set the tone. If the boy wanted to be sensible and act like an adult, he had full rein to do so. 

Instead, Alexander just shook his head angrily, storming off in the direction of their bedroom, leaving Thomas to stand starkly alone in the parlor. He disappeared around the corner. Thomas heaved a deep breath and shook off his shocked hurt; Alexander was clearly hurting, or he wouldn’t be treating him like this. He had to do something, and all he wanted to do right now was swoop in and fix whatever was wrong--wanted to curl Alexander against his chest and hold him there. 

But that wouldn't work right now if he was being difficult. He rounded his shoulders and set off right behind his husband-to-be. 

He clunked into the room to find Alexander yanking off his coat and hanging it angrily, in their dresser. Thomas stopped at the threshold, leaning up against the doorway. The Virginian scowled, crossing his arms over his chest.   
“I’m sorry, did I do something to make you act like a complete bitch to me?” 

Alexander shrugged off his waistcoat, tossing it in as well. Thomas waited for an answer for as long as it took; Alexander couldn’t treat him like this and just get off clean. He’d have to talk.   
“No.” He finally grumbled, pulling a night shirt on over his bare chest. Thomas waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t give another word on the matter.  
‘Why can’t you just go to sleep Thomas?” He sneered quietly. 

“I can’t sleep without you. You know that. Especially when you’re not in the house and I don’t have a fucking clue where you are.” Thomas lashed back with the same harsh tongue, but his words were slanted with sincerity. He took a deep breath in the silence, closing his eyes for a moment. This wasn’t the way to handle it; he KNEW that. Alexander had frozen in front of their bed, facing away from Thomas with one hand on the sheets. 

“I was really scared, honey. You worried me. And I missed you.” Thomas shrugged, a bit self conscious being so vulnerable when Alexander was so hot tempered. Despite his instincts, he kept his walls down and stepped carefully towards Alexander.  
“I just want to know what’s wrong; I hate seeing you like this.” he placed a gentle hand on top of Alexander’s, approaching him with as much kindness as he’d want to receive. 

“Then toughen up.” Alexander lashed back--as Thomas feared he would--at his softness with a sharp tongue. He jerked his hand out from under Thomas’s and climbed into bed with a scowl, “I’m just thinking about stuff; I don’t need your sympathy.” 

Thomas’s brows furrowed, wounded and angry from being hit where he was soft.   
“When we have things on our minds, we tell each other. Always. When the hell did that magically change?” 

“When this thing is none of your damn business.” Alexander knocked down every one of Thomas’s statements, shutting him out. Thomas just stood there, unmoving, as Alexander pulled the covers over his body and faced the wall. 

Thomas nodded, feeling his mood darken, his face grow shadowed. That was fucking it. He’d had his fill. He’d played nice and Alexander had brushed him off. 

“Fine. Is that what you want? Me to play the bad guy?” Thomas growled lowly, feeling the power shift back into his hands. In one motion, he screwed up his lips and leaned forward, tearing the blankets away from Alexander’s body and tossing them aside. The immigrant curled up at the chilly bite of air and craned over his shoulder, brows swooping down in rage. 

“Hey!” he barked, but Thomas was on it with a cruel shake of his head.   
“Get out of my bed.” He spat the command and pointed at the other side of the room, leaving absolutely not room for disobedience. Alex kept his dark eyes on Thomas’s, slowly sitting up to face him.   
“This isn’t your bed, asshole. It’s ours.” 

“Not right now, it’s not,” Thomas snarled, curling his lip and leering, “You’re not contributing jack shit to ‘us’ right now, so I see no reason why you should stay in my bed.”   
“You can’t just--”  
“Get up. Get out.” Thomas sneered, seizing Alexander’s collar and dragging him, writhing out of the bed. Alex jerked him off, landing his feet on the floor and whirling around to face him. 

“You’re being a complete dickhead.” but Thomas surged forward, getting up in his face, well up for the challenge.   
“No, Alexander, YOU are. I’m willing to sit this down and talk this out like an adult that loves you to fucking death. And when you realize what a jerk you’re being and want to talk, I’ll be right here in OUR bed.” Thomas gave him a sharp glare as he swung into bed right where Alexander was. 

Alexander stood there and FUMED, his face burning a deep scarlet hue. Thomas gestured with his eyes to the other side of the room.   
“You’re sleeping on the couch. Come back any time when you want to act your age.”   
“Yeah, well I don’t think I will.” Alexander mocked, turning curtly away and storming off to the sitting area of the bedroom.   
“Fine.”   
“Fine.” 

The smaller one threw himself down on the couch with an angry huff, snagging the blanket off the back and pulling it over himself. Thomas did the same in his bed, wrapping himself up and turning over irritably to face the wall. Little bitch. Within a few moments of annoyed rustling, they both fell silent, staring blankly at the wall or ceiling. And neither were anywhere near falling asleep. 

Thomas didn’t get it. He didn’t understand what was going on or why this had come completely out of the blue. One moment he and Alexander were planning for their wedding and the next they were fighting and running off sleeping in different beds. It just didn't make any sense. 

Thomas rolled over once again to face the room, not making a sound. It felt like with every single heartbeat, there was a needle panging right through his chest, tearing his very soul out. He’d meant what he said, that seeing Alexander so hurt was hurting him. And it was HURTING him. 

Time passed as the moon patch signaling the deepening of the night. Thomas was so impossibly uncomfortable in that empty bed that he might as well have been sleeping out on the street on a splintery wooden crate. As time went on, his body began to physically ache until it was unbearable. It started small, but soon it bloomed from just his chest to his entire being, aching, YEARNING for Alexander. They hadn’t slept apart in five months, he realized--save a couple scattered business travels. But only now did he comprehend the genuine physical NEED to hold him. It was agonizing, and he’d had no idea how bad it had gotten. 

He squeezed his eyes shut and seriously debated whether to talk to his fiance another time, give it another go. He didn’t know…   
The Virginian let out a silent sigh, taking Alexander’s pillow and holding it to his chest to try and fill that embarrassing need to hold something--anything at this point. He tucked his chin on top of it, not even really thinking about how that was exactly what he did to the top of his lover’s head, and closed his eyes, completely drained. 

Even despite the hole ripped in his heart, the discomfort, he needed to sleep; his awakeness couldn’t last too much longer, he thought with a morbid scrap of hope. Just one night. Just give it one more night for the immigrant to mull it over, sleep on it, and come running right back to Thomas’s arms. He’d come running in the morning. 

Thomas squeezed his eyes shut, allowing himself to drift despite the pain. Never in his life had he ever felt like anything but an emotionless rock of strength and authority. And now he was the weakest person on earth; Alexander had the influence over him to do that in a heartbeat, and he had DONE it. Thomas just tried to breathe, to comfort himself through the night. 

It was only one night, right? He could do it. Alexander would be back in his arms soon, it’s not like he was going anywhere. Just one night, Thomas thought, drifting vaguely into a half-dreaming state. He’d come running.   
Just one night...

**

Alexander listened to Thomas breathing; it was the only thing in the world that was holding him together. A few hours ago his breath had found a deeper place, signaling his journey into sleep, but Alexander was not so lucky. He stared at the clock, waiting, waiting with dread for it to strike three. Then would he get up and go. 

Despite the snowy winter silence, his mind felt… clouded. It felt stormy, the skies of his mind roiling and thundering lowly within his skull, rolling over the hills. Nothing he did could put an end to the words of the letter echoing in his mind, over and over again.   
“Whore child…”   
“Bastard…”   
“You do not love him, Alexander…Alexander… Alexander…” 

They whispered quietly in his ears, torturing him, twisting him, making him toss and turn on that stupid fucking couch for hours. The only thing that was clear to him was this unnerving… pull. This TUG that he couldn’t explain if his very life depended on it. He remained in his place, but his spirit was being slowly… slowly guided by this ancient invisible force. 

As he drifted, visions flashed before his eyes, vivid and horrible. Soldiers staggering through barren wheat fields of corpses, bandages around stumps of limbs. He tossed onto his back. The blustering winds on a barren Caribbean rock, the sea roiling up and foaming on the cliffside. Sweat trickled down his back. 

“Mom! Wake up, mom PLEASE!” The cries of a little boy echoed somewhere in his head, wailing.  
“Please… Please… Please…” it faded, repeating itself as if it was glitching. Alexander grunted, gripping the sheets and rolling over again. Not real, not real, not real he tried to push them away, but the scene only changed. The faint glint of the silver muzzle of a gun in flickering firelight. An eye opened, dark and flashing into his own, glitching back and forth.

Burr’s. 

The island winds picked up, whirling in his ears until it was deafening, ROARING, drowning out every other sound. And within it’s torrents, it seemed to have a voice, an old and ancient voice within the walls of wind.   
“Legacy… Legacy…. LEGACY!”

His eyes snapped open with a gasp, all noise falling silent.   
The visions disappeared before his eyes, melting away with the clear, ringing, echoing bang of a gunshot, cracking into the silence and the faintest whisper...

“Legacy... “ 

And then it was all gone… Alexander breathed, gasping for air but remaining silent as not to wake Thomas. He could feel that he had been lying in a damp puddle of his own sweat; he was slicked with it now: his hair, his back, everything. There was only one explanation. Nightmares, he realized, the truth sinking in. He hadn’t had nightmares in a long, long time, and they had come back. They had come back for him. 

Alexander squeezed his eyes shut against the lump in his throat and turned over, placing his head on his arm. And yet, now that he was awake, that tugging feeling had not ceased, if anything, it was stronger now, more pressing. His eyes darted frantically to the clock, pulled to it. It was ticking away in the dim light… exactly three A.M. The immigrant raised a shaking hand to his face, wiping the slick, sweaty hair out of his eyes. It was time.

With the utmost slowness, Alexander raised from the couch, peeking over the back to glimpse Thomas. He seemed to be asleep. And facing the wall too. Almost too perfect. It was like the whole world… all of destiny was aligning perfectly for this to happen. The treasurer exhaled a shaky breath, turning his body to place his feet on the cold floor and stand weakly. When he tiptoed to the dresser, Thomas didn’t move; he was fast asleep. Alexander held his breath and kept his eyes on his dreaming finance as he slowly… pulled open the dresser door.

It creaked, and he winced HARD, halting all motion.  
Fuck fuck FUCK. 

Thomas stirred, and Alexander panicked, heart thumping in his chest. He was going to get caught. He was going to get found out and have to explain what he didn’t even understand himself. But Thomas just nodded his head, falling right back into deep sleep. Oh God... Alexander realized he had been holding his breath and let it go, adrenaline still pumping through his veins from the terror of the nightmare and this fright. 

He shook his head, trying futilely to clear it as he turned back to the dresser and reached within, fingers groping blindly for the fabric of his overcoat. Carefully, steadily, he pulled it off the hanger and slipped it over his tiny frame. He would be fine with this and his warm night clothes under; not like he’d be taking the coat off in weather like this. There was no time to get dressed; it was too risky.   
Against his breast in the pocket, the immigrant could feel the letter tucked there, whispering to him. Alexander quietly stepped into his shoes one by one, not bothering to lace them until he was well on his way. The clock on the wall seemed to tick… tick… tick away. Was it louder than usual? Was it louder? 

Alexander cast another glance at Thomas, a pang lancing through his heart. He wanted to let his coat fall off of him like mist and crawl under the covers, curl himself against the cradle of Thoams’s chest. God… he WANTED to. But the force of the universe had it’s cold, white hand curled around his throat, tightening just the tiniest amount with every moment he hesitated, constricting him, no way out.   
Alexander licked his lips and turned his cheek, focusing not on what he knew was next. The part that he dreaded. 

The man slowly kneeled to the floor, conscious of the creaky floorboards beneath his feet. He extended his hand at a crawling pace, ghosting his fingers over the knob of the bottom drawer. Through the wood, he could almost FEEL energy radiating. It was like it was beckoning him, calling to him, whispering to him. Sweat started to bead on the back of his neck, and he swept it away with one hand, blinking away his cloudy thoughts and carefully… silently drag open the drawer. 

It was right on the top of the miscellaneous fabrics surrounding it. Waiting there for him.   
Alexander’s heart pattered madly in his chest as he glided his fingertips over the cold steel, glinting ominously in the moonlight. It was icy to the touch, making him want to pull away in shock, but instead he wrapped his fingers around the smooth grip, a surge of energy like a shockwave washing icily from where his skin made contact with the polished wood, rushing through him.

Breath fluttering against his nightshirt, Alexander lifted the heavy weapon from its bed, the glimmer of its steel reflecting in his eyes. He remembered the last time he had held this gun. He had frantically stuffed the bullet in it and never fired; little did he know then what this bullet would come to now. 

Alexander stood and lurched to a stop, catching sight of himself in the mirror he had got for Thomas on that Christmas. That seemed lifetimes away now. His overcoat cloaked around him, the flintlock in his hand… loaded with one bullet. His eyes flickered down to it, a clear, obtrusive thought ringing in his head.   
“What if this bullet is my legacy…” 

The thought frightened him; it seemed louder than all of his other voices. So crystal clear that he jumped, sending adrenaline washing through his veins.   
That was it. He had to get out of there. It was time.  
Alexander turned away from the mirror, cloak whirling like black feathers in the night without looking back at Thomas--he didn’t know if he could. 

And that was when he took a step.  
Right onto his shoelace that he had neglected to tie… and tripped. 

He stumbled, grasping for the doorknob with a yelp as the world warped into a deep hush, slowing… slowing down to a near stop of time as the gun slipped from between Alexander’s fingers and arched through the air, glinting once in the pale moonlight. 

It felt like time had frozen there, the horrible, beautiful machine of death suspended forever in space. But all too soon, it fell with a banging clatter that shattered the silence, skittering across the floor and weakly thudding against the bottom of the bed. 

Any other day, the noise would be mild to the ears. But this sound shattered the night, tore through the heavens, splintered the silent world right in two. It echoed into the deepest part of Alexander as he froze in place, hand still on the knob, and he was NUMB. His breath hitched in his throat and he couldn’t get it out; he couldn’t breathe. His heart might as well have not been beating as he watched what happened next. 

Thomas jolted upright in bed, blanket flying off him as he panted, planting his hands in the sheets and looking around wildly in the dark for what had made such a racket. The first thought whizzing through his head was “where is Alexander?” as he grappled the sheets next to him to find them empty with a shot of terror. And then he remembered with a sinking heart 

“Alexander, what was that sou….” he looked first to the couch but it was abandoned, the blanket left draped across the cushions and forgotten.  
...What?

Thomas sat up further, squinting more carefully and scouring the room until… he saw. 

The immigrant with one hand on the door, cloaked and shoed. He was leaving. Thomas’s heart lurched violently in his chest, fear spurting in an icy wave over him. Alexander just stood there helplessly, looking just as afraid as Thomas was. The man’s lips parted. 

“...Alexander?” he spoke it as a question, voice dripping with worry, “What--Where are you going?” He was still a bit confused from the abrupt awakening, head swirling with dreams and groggy, but he knew what he saw. Alex looked like he’d seen a ghost, his hand slipping off the knob to run through his hair.   
“Oh my God…” He breathed inaudibly to himself, trying to make himself breathe. His whole body shook. He was going to pass out, he realized with a sudden wave of nausea. Thomas could see him floundering, flailing for an answer, failing. He sputtered, and finally spat out a word. 

“Weehaken.” he blurted, cupping his hand over his mouth as soon as he’d said it, regretting telling the truth immediately. 

Thomas’s stomach SWOOPED.   
No… 

“W… Why are you going to Weehawken, Alexander…?” Thomas’s voice wavered, shaking with terror. This wasn’t true; this wasn’t happening.   
He wasn’t an idiot; everyone knew what happened at Weehawken, what the place was used for, and the name echoed in his head, pressing for his heart to thud faster. Thomas slowly shifted his leg out of bed, one after the other in a slow way as if not to scare Alexander off. His fiance was hurting, he was terrified like a wounded animal. 

And that was when his heel brushed over the cold muzzle of the gun at the foot of the bed.   
He jerked his foot back, gasping at the shock, but when he looked down… all blood drained from his face. Alexander cringed, but he couldn’t do anything, helpless; it was like watching through someone else’s dream. It was a train crash in slow motion, chaos ensuing. His fiance’s mouth parted and he looked up to Alexander, eyes desperate with horror. 

“Alexander…”   
“Thomas, it’s not what it looks like.” Alex finally spoke, blurting out hysterically and taking a step towards him but unable to approach any more; something stopped him. But Thomas was clenching at his hair, staring at the horrible object at his foot. 

“Alexander, what is going on? Please, God, you’re scaring me.” his voice cracked, utterly strained with anxiety. Alex could see his chest fluttering with labored breaths, running the hand through his hair and clenching again. He was SICK with terror. He was completely beside himself. 

“Honey please, what is going on?” He begged. BEGGED. Thomas never begged. His eyes were pleading up at Alexander who knew he had no choice as soon as he glimpsed into them. It was over. It was completely over. He’d have to tell the horrific truth. 

But his lips would not move. They couldn’t form words, absolutely fucking useless. His brain couldn’t tell his mouth what to say; everything was getting snagged up and whirled away in the roaring storm in his mind. As Thomas grew more desperate… Alexander could only think of one thing to do. 

Speechless, wordless, he reached his trembling hand into the pocket of his coat, fingers fumbling inside numbly until he found what he knew was there. He squeezed his eyes shut, fingers closing around the dry, crinkly parchment as he produced it and mindlessly extended it to Thomas. His fiance snatched it from his hand, dread already pooling in the pit of his stomach like cold, heavy tar. 

“What is this...?” he whispered with a head shake, unfolding it. Alexander just kept his hands cupped over his mouth, shaking his head slowly so that Thomas knew he couldn’t talk. The man’s eyes flickered from Alexander to the letter as he--against every instinct screaming at him in his body--began to read. He could feel in his hands the power radiating from that piece of paper, the darkness. And he was afraid. 

Alexander was torn apart by the same feeling of helplessness, defenselessness as he watched his lover read the death challenge. 

Those dark eyes slowly… slowly mounted with horror. The blood left in Thomas’s face drained, leaving him pale as a corpse. His breathing accelerated as a hand raised to his mouth and stayed there. Alexander was trapped. He had NOTHING to do but to stand there and take it, watch his lover torturously torn apart. As his eyes travelled down the page, Alexander saw Thomas begin to slowly curl in on himself, he looked like…. Like he was going to be sick. 

Thomas’s hand lifted from his mouth just an inch, shaking brutally.   
“Oh my God…” his voice was wavering dangerously like it was going to break, shatter.   
“Thomas--”

“OH my GOD.” he roared, but in a pitch Alexander had never heard of him, voice cracking, high and airy. Alexander made a move for him, finally breaking, unable to handle it, but Thomas had already jumped to his feet and slung an arm around his stomach. Head shaking, he pushed past Alexander, knocking into his shoulder as he sprinted to the porch door, slapped his hand onto the wooden side and vomited violently over the edge. 

Alexander had both hands tangled in his own hair, all of it hitting him at once. Oh my God… Oh my God, what had he done? For a beat, he stood there in complete shock at what had just happened before he bolted, tripping over the threshold but recovering enough to stumble out onto the porch breathlessly. He opened his mouth to desperately speak, SAY something, but Thomas interrupted him.   
“Water. Toothbrush.” he sputtered.   
“Thom--”  
“NOW, Alexander.” he boomed, still panting and clutching an arm over his abdomen, trembling slightly and hiding that he was. His fist was curled against the side of the poch, holding him up in his dizzying moment of weakness. Alex jumped at his harsh words, skittering off back into the house, and Thomas remained, still shaky. He seethed, burning with fury as he spat onto the ground, trying to rid his mouth of the horrible taste of bile. He hadn’t expected that reaction to happen--and so suddenly--, but when he read the letter… what Alexander was about to do… it HIT him so hard that he was sick. 

Alexander finally returned with a porcelain bowl of water and Thomas’s toothbrush, which he snatched from him violently and shot him an arctic glare.  
“Sit inside, Alexander.” he spat, standing up straight while downplaying a wince, “Don’t you dare even try to leave the bedroom.”   
The harshness in his voice made Alexander prickle, spiking with fury. 

“This is ridiculous.” Alexander sneered under his breath.   
“You’re right. It absolutely is. Go sit down and shut the hell up; I can’t look at you right now.” Thomas snarled, throwing his walls right back up now that he had tried being vulnerable, and look where the hell it had gotten him. Alexander threw up his arms but didn’t say anything, whirling around and storming back into their bedroom. This was a mess. 

The immigrant slammed the door so hard he could hear the plates clink in the china cabinet in the dining room and just wanted to SCREAM. The fury surged up inside of him, mounting on itself until it was too great for him to bear. The man tore off his overcoat and threw it on the floor with a frustrated growl, teeth gritted with rage. How could he have let this happen. The sun was going to rise and Burr would remain alive, alive to hurt him again and again. His words would ring true for all of time. 

Alex snarled again and kicked the foot of the bed as hard as he fucking could before just collapsing onto it, burying his face in his arms and clenching his sleeve between his teeth. And waited. He’d fucked up. He’d fucked up so badly, and he was dreading every moment that was about to follow. Would Thomas let his anger get the best of him? Would he respond with maturity? There was no way of saying until it happened, and Alexander detested it. 

Five minutes later, Alexander was jolted violently from his position, head snapping up. The door to the porch flung open and slammed against the wall, bouncing back, and Thomas strode inside.  
His eyes… they were absolutely livid. His mouth was screwed up with wrath, his brows low over his dark, stormy eyes. Alexander stood carefully from the bed, eyes widening.

He wouldn’t dare...Thomas had never hit him outside of self-defense in these situations, never. But right now, it really looked like he was going to. Like he WANTED to. Alex took a shaky step backwards but tripped once again over his laces, falling with a yelp. 

Thomas advanced on him lunging forwards and wrapping his arms around Alexander. The boy flinched and cried out, still on defense, but he opened his eyes when Thomas pulled him aggressively against his chest and held him there, pressing him close against his body. 

“Why, Alexander, why?” The man snarled, but the underlying tone was one that needed to sob. Clearly Alexander wasn’t the only one that was a mess who didn’t know what to do with his mixed emotions. Thomas grappled at the fabric on Alexander’s back, just trying to feel him.   
“Why would you believe all of that… SHIT that Burr was feeding you? What is fucking wrong with you?”

“Wh--It wasn’t SHIT, Thomas, get OFF me.” Alexander yelled into Thomas’s chest, trying to shoved him away with his palms. Thomas held him strong, but Alexander was small enough to twist violently out of his grip and stumbled away, panting and disheveled. He met his lover’s eyes not ready to back down from his place yet. There was still time to end this once and for all. To destroy Burr so he couldn’t keep doing this, finding his way back into their lives. 

“Everything he said,” Alexander gasped for air, pointing at the letter on the ground, “About my family. It’s true.”  
“No it’s not.”  
“What do you know, Jefferson?!” Alexander roared, already feeling the tears brim in his eyes. He stood in a defensive stance, not allowing Thomas any nearer. The tall man just stood, trying to keep his cool, but it was only a matter of time.   
“IT’S. NOT. TRUE.” Thomas roared, cutting him off. Alexander snarled, but Thomas wouldn’t have it. The man opened his arms. 

“You think… you think you’re a filthy bastard child? A whore’s son? Is that what this is about?”  
“It doesn’t matter what I think, fucker. It’s true.”

“LOOK at you, Alexander.” Thomas gestured at him with an open hand, eyes flashing with emotion, “You’re a Treasurer, you’re marrying a President. For God's sake...” He took a step towards Alexander, trying to desperately prove his point, but within those eyes, there was something dark. Alexander kept looking down at the floor, a storm brewing in his grave face. 

“He wrote EXACTLY what he knew would make you come. So he could murder you in cold blood on a cliffside--”  
“Don’t do that to me, Thomas.” Alexander warned darkly, shaking his head with grave sincerity.   
“What? Don’t what?” Thomas finally scoffed, opening his arms incredulously. 

He let them fall to his sides and shook his head, lips pursed as he held down the emotions that needed to tear out of him,  
“Yes. Yes, Alexander, you’re right. How dare I.” He nodded along sarcastically, looking in the immigrant’s eyes when he refused to do the same. 

“How dare I love you--love you until I am SICK with worry.” he spat, voice slowly raising as his copious amounts of passion erupted. He raked a hand through his hair.   
“Do you know what it’s LIKE. To stay up for hours alone in your house because your husband isn’t coming home? To watch the door for every little moment because you think he could have been fucking murdered in the streets of New York?”

Thomas ranted, flinging his hands violently as Alexander stood there and SEETHED, never meeting his eyes.   
“I waited for, HOURS, Alexander. And when you finally come home you won’t TELL me what’s going on, make me sleep without you even though I love you more than I love myself.”  
“You made that decision, bastard.” Alex finally spat.

“No, Alexander, YOU made it for me.” Thomas retorted, pointing hostilely in his face and not allowing any more space for interruption. 

“You made me feel like half of my world was ripped out of my arms and I couldn’t do anything about it. You don’t know how it felt to wake up and see your husband walking out the door in the middle of the fucking night with a GUN.” his voice cracked and he ran a hand through his hair.   
“A GUN, Alexander. God…” he broke off, looking up to the ceiling, obviously trying desperately to hold back angry tears. He breathed for a few moments, realizing he wasn’t going to be able to control it, so why even bother. 

“And hand me a letter I’ve neve seen and decide to tell me that you were going to DIE.”   
“YOU don’t know that.” Alexander pointed at him, taking an aggressive step forward, his eyes flashed with ferocity, “YOU don’t know that I couldn’t kill him first. Take him OUT of here so he can’t hurt us anymore, Thomas, it needs to end.”

“This. Is not. The way. To end this.” Thomas clipped quietly through clenched teeth, hitting every consonant. Alexander rolled his head back, raking a hand through his own hair. 

“Whatever, Thomas. You keep spilling bullshit of what I’ve done to you tonight, and haven’t taken a damn fucking second to consider what’s happened to me.”  
“Alexander, I just got SICK with worry, honey.” Thomas laughed highly, trying to gesture desperately with his hands, “I just lost my dinner because the father of my daughter wants to get himself killed.”  
“I want to protect us.”  
“Burr means to MURDER YOU, Alexander!” Thomas screamed, rattling the very shingles of the house, “He has nothing to LIVE for anymore; are you blind?! he doesn’t care if you shoot too, Alexander, he wants you dead. He thinks you’ve taken everything from him and he wants to drag you to hell with him.” 

Alexander finally looked up and let loose a snarl of rage, lunging forward a step so that Thomas stumbled back. His eyes were wild with madness, a long-lived torment playing out behind them. 

“Do YOU know what it’s like, Thomas?” he panted madly right up in his face, scanning his fiance up and down. Thomas didn’t respond, lips searching for words, “Do YOU know what it’s like to live every day with the knowledge that you are a jester among kings. I was bred by thieves and whores. My father left me. Do you know what it’s LIKE, Thomas?” Alexander’s voice finally cracked, something shattering in his eyes. 

“Every day. Proving to the whisperers that you’re more than the son of a whore. To hear the whispers and know that everyone knows who you are. Everyone knows what you came from. Everyone knows your SHAME. My mother wasn’t a whore, Thomas.” his voice trailed off, “She wasn’t a whore…” Alexander BROKE down, crumbling. 

“Honey…” Thomas took a step towards him with a softening face, just wanting to hold him, goddamnit, but Alexander took a step back, holding up a palm and gritting his teeth despite the tortured tears streaming down his face. 

“Don’t. Don’t touch me.”  
“Alexander, you are NOT. Filth. Where you are NOW. TODAY is what matters.” Thomas pointed at the ground, punctuating his argument. Alex aggressively rubbed a frustrated palm across his face in a way that looked like it was painful, and Thomas couldn’t handle it. He couldn’t handle seeing Alexander hurt like this and stave him off, bereave him of the ability to help him. 

“I’m going to Weehawken. To finish this for the last time. I’ll come back when I’m done.” Alexander grumbled darkly, eyes hazing black as he bend down to lift the gun from the floor. As Thomas watched the love of his life touch the weapon with his fingertips, everything HIT him all at the same time. If he’d thought he’d grasped the challenge he was facing before, only now did he realize that he’d truly grasped it. 

His eyes snapped open in terror. 

“DON’T touch that! STOP it!” he lunged forward, smacking into Alexander and twisting the gun out of his hand. Something cracked. Alexander made a pained sound like a hurt puppy that broke Thomas’s heart into a million pieces; he knew that he had just hurt him. Thomas jerked back, heaving for breath and disheveled as he watched Alexander cradle his hand, eyes squeezed shut and leaking tears onto his nightshirt. 

“Ow…” he sobbed, body racking as he slowly, slowly lowered himself to sit on the bed. He opened his mouth wide, nothing more than a barely-audibly squeak coming out as he closed it again, trying to blink and breathe shakily through it. He gritted his teeth through the tears, turning his head up to Thomas. For the first time in what felt like years, there was genuine hatred in them.   
And it tore Thomas to shreds. 

“Burr challenged me to a duel. I accepted.” he spat, still curled in pain, “It’s binding, Thomas. Fate has been set.”   
“Burr challenges you to something you can NEVER WIN. If you go, Alexander, he wins, don’t you get it?”

“BURR CHALLENGES MY LOVE FOR YOU!” Alexander finally screamed, shrieking louder than Thomas had ever heard. It was earsplitting. Throat-shredding. But Thomas only slammed his fist down onto the top of the dresser with a sickening bang before he had even finished. 

“I CHALLENGE IT TOO, GODDAMNIT.” he boomed right back, if possible, daunting Alexander’s volume with his own. The immigrant finally fell quiet, flinching at the sheer intensity of his voice. He cowered in the bed, nursing his hand against his chest and waited in shock. Thomas wasn’t finished, the words flowing from his mouth like a dam had finally burst, outpouring all of his fears. 

“I challenge your love for me. I challenge it just as much as that bastard, and it is YOUR choice, Alexander, YOUR choice who it matters more to prove it to.” Thomas roared, shaking his head violently with every word. He went on despite the angry tears running down Alexander’s face. 

“I can’t stop you if you think it matters more to prove your love to your enemy than to your lover. I can’t stop you.” Thomas shook his head slowly, opening his arms as he stepped away from the door. He waved a hand to it, and Alexander realized what he was doing. He was leaving a path for Alexander to walk out on. 

“But I challenge you. If you want to throw your life away on the words of a scoundrel, I can’t stop you. But if you DIE--if you get yourself MURDERED on that rock today--you prove to me that you lied when you said you loved me.”   
Alexander shook his head, lips parted as messy tears were running down his disaster-of-a-face. Thomas pointed at the ground and screwed up his lips before Alexander could whisper the word, "no..." 

“If you care to get yourself killed and leave me here on this earth to suffer every. Single. Day the love of my life is gone, you never loved me, Alexander. You go tonight, you take that away from me. YOU take that away from me, and I will live with that knowledge for the rest of my life.” 

Alex tried to form words, but his lips just moved aimlessly, looking around the room for a valid argument but there was none. He just whimpered, trying to swallow the rock in his throat. Thomas watched him struggle and walked forward across the wooden floor. When he got to the bed, he got down on both knees and pleaded up into Alexander’s eyes, taking his hand and never looking away. 

“How, Alexander? How am I going to explain this to our daughter?” His voice wavered dangerously. Alexander squeezed his eyes shut at the mention, tears leaking out as he looked away in agony. Thomas's eyes darted back and forth between Alexander's, seeing the absolute heartbreak within them. 

“Why would you make me have to do that? Have to WATCH her look at George and James and tilt her little head because she doesn’t understand. She doesn’t understand WHY. How would you make me look into our little girl’s eyes and have to explain where her daddy is, Alexander?” 

Thomas’s lip quivered, and the lump finally constricted his throat. 

“How could you MAKE me do that. Tell OUR. LITTLE. GIRL. That her daddy left her and he’s... never coming back.” Thomas shook his head, face breaking down completely. He struggled to find Alexander’s eyes and pleaded, BEGGED with all of the strength left in his body, putting everything he had into his next words...

“It’s going to break my heart.” he choked, voice cracking, tortured, as he shook his head. 

The words themselves already did the job as Thomas crumbled, squeezing Alexander’s hand in his own like it was the only thing real left in the world. He heaved a sob, breaking down and sitting back on his knees. The man buried his face in Alexander’s hand, kissing the palm just to feel the pulse, still alive. There was a chance. There was still a chance that he could fix this. 

“Please, Alexander. PLEASE.” he choked, looking back up and pressing that hand against his chest so Alex could feel his heartbeat. Alexander was a wreck, sobbing and snot and tears and red all over.   
“Please do what you know is right before it’s too late.” his lip quivered again, “Because you know your baby deserves to have her daddies, like WE never had. Our baby deserves all the love in the world and you KNOW that." 

Thomas sat back up, leaning forward and suddenly wrapping both arms around Alexander’s waist with a heart-wrenching sob, squeezing him so tight he couldn’t breathe, neither of them. Tears smeared onto Alexander’s shirt as he buried his face into Alexander’s chest. To his surprise, Alexander whimpered agonizingly and flung his arms around Thomas’s head, pulling him close. 

“The world is wide enough, Alexander. For our little girl.” Alexander tried to hush him but just ended up weeping harder, lacing his hands in Thomas’s hair like he’d never let him go.   
“The world is WIDE enough.” Thomas repeated muffledly into his shirt, putting so much emphasis on it that he racked another sob.   
Alexander struggled to breath, arms shaking as he grappled at the back of Thomas’s shirt. Eventually, the man vaguely realized that Alexander was trying to pull him up onto the bed with him, pulling him up to the same level so he was no longer begging him on the floor; he couldn't bear to see him like that anymore. 

Thomas didn't bother wiping his nose on his sleeve, they were both hiccuping disasters as he crawled onto the bed over Alexander, pulling his little body desperately into his arms and laying him down on the unmade sheets. Alex weakly hooked his arms under Thomas’s as Thomas did the same, squeezing him and pressing his forehead to Alexander’s messily.

The smaller nodded, tears flowing down his temples and into his hair.   
“The world is wide enough…” he managed to whisper, brushing the hair out of Thomas’s face with a helpless whimper and closing his eyes painfully for Thomas to press his lips against his own. Thomas’s tears slipped from his wet lashes onto Alexander’s face, mixing with his own. 

“I’m sorry…” Alexander sobbed helplessly, body washed with hatred for what he had done. For what he had almost done. 

“Shh…” Thomas managed, trailing his hands down to Alexander’s as they kissed, lacing their fingers together. He could feel the wedding ring against his, the one neither would take off, even while they slept. The winter night was growing colder, fire already dead, but the two lovers could keep each other warm, safe. The immigrant never left Thomas's sight that night.

Alexander laced his fingers right back into Thomas’s, squeezing, and Thomas squeezed his too.

And that was enough. 

That could be enough.


	53. Can You Imagine?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're not finished yet, so don't go too far! 😉 Thank you so much for all of your lovely support, I love you all and stay healthy, darlings! <3

The frigid, black water of the Hudson lapped at the rocks at the base of the cliff bank. It swirled darkly off downstream, silent and powerful, New York city barely visible across the wide body of moving, swirling black depths. It hadn’t snowed in a few days, but the banks were still high and white, some brown from mud and sludge, and hard-packed too. Boats bobbed slowly in the arctic waters, sad looking and run down with furled sails. Wind blustered across the river, bone chilling, shaking the bare skeletons of the wintry trees and just barely spraying the tips of the saltwater ripples. Everything was so gray, the bark, the sky, the rocks on the cliffside. 

The frosty field of dried mud was empty save for one lonely tree, naked in the wintry frigidity. Most days that came and went, nobody came to the forsaken place. But this morning as the sun peaked to the East, two men sat, backs facing each other on opposite sides of the dry trunk of the old hickory. 

Neither said a word as they watched the sun tip over new york city, outlining the place where business was surely slow on a biting day such as this. But out here, it was quiet. Out here… everything was still but the biting wind making the men squint, fluttering the brims of their hats, the faint, far-off clinking of ships barely audible in the distance. 

But no boat other than their own, two wooden paddles, sat lonesome at the far-off base of the cliff, bobbing and scraping lightly against the bare rocks with creaks. And no other boat approached. 

William Van Ness feared to move, and so he sat, still and silent for as long as the other man did. He was aware that his friend was leaned against the tree, gun abandoned at his side with his hands folded over his lap. His head leaned against the frigid bark and his eyes were closed. Aaron Burr was deep… deep in thought. And nothing could bring him back, and so the boy did not attempt to, just waited with stiffening joints against the cold. 

William had no idea what was occurring in the man's mind. And... perhaps he never would. All he knew was that he was quiet. Silent. Unmoving. William shuffled, his foot lightly scraping over the frosted, pebbly dirt before falling still once more. He had imagined that Burr would be angry, livid at the fact that Hamilton had never shown. But… the man was ever so calm it seemed. Ever so calm...

Perhaps something had finally fallen to place in his head. Perhaps now he understood something that he… couldn’t understand before, whatever that may be. Perhaps the weight of a final defeat was at last resting on his shoulders, right in front of him on the cliffside for him to look at and understand completely. Right there in front of him.

The boy sniffed, cold wind biting his nose. He thought they should leave if Hamilton was not coming, but… he also somehow knew that Burr was not waiting for Hamilton to arrive. Not anymore. His mind was far beyond there, it was not at the cliffs of Weehawken where they sat.

So the boy waited, able to speculate but never able to truly know. The Winter was unforgiving, but he was fairly bundled. Perhaps he would never know what Burr thought of that morning but he did know one sole thought… and this one came from himself. 

He no longer felt fear of Burr. He no longer felt the same… horror at his actions, at his twisted decisions and revenges. All he felt as they turned their faces towards the slate gray sky… was pity. 

After all of this evil. After all of this hate. 

All he could feel for the wicked was pity… 

***

Hooves thumped lazily against the trail, clobbering hollowly on a root every once in a while, but for the most part, everything was peacefully silent. Rhythmic was the word that could describe the day. Tarquin’s tail swished every few steps to stave off flies, lips bumbling around the bit as the reins hung loosely about his long, sleek neck, warm in the Spring sun. The sunlight dappling the forest floor was tinted fern green from filtering through the delicate, nascent leaves of the new season. It was a breezy day, but a storm had blown through the previous night, so the air following was warm. Summer was approaching, bringing life into the world in more ways than one, the lovers knew. 

The men were rhythmic too. They sat on the back of Tarquin, both of them in the same slick leather saddle. Alexander insisted on riding with Thomas, day by day conquering his fear of horses in baby steps. Morelle was one of his biggest helps--she had been gifted to him a couple of months ago as his fully personal ride--but on days like these, Alex just wanted to ride with Thomas. And that was fine by the Virginian; he didn’t tell Alexander’s egotistical ass, but he could never get enough chances to be close with him, no matter if they were at each other’s sides around the clock. Day and night. 

Now their hips rocked smoothly with Tarquin’s ambling strides, wandering through the woods, just swaying. Alex wanted to sit in front and do the navigation to retain some purpose, but the reins sat loosely in his hands resting on his thighs. Thomas was pressed behind him, guiding the rhythmic rocking of both their hips. His eyes remained half-closed, head perched over Alexander’s shoulder as he leaned slightly forward. Alex leaned back into him, which maintained their balance quite nicely, and Thomas was so great to lean into, firm yet not stiff. Warm too. His head leaned back just slightly against Thomas’s left shoulder, not draped over it, just touching and leaning a bit into his neck as they swayed. 

Thomas’s arms were curled under Alex’s and around the front, resting on his belly and holding the man gently against him. Neither of them made a comment on it, but they both knew that whenever there was a turn, Thomas would quietly drift his hands to Alexander’s and hold them in his own, guiding the reins in the right direction. 

Thomas closed his eyes blissfully on seeing that they were upon a long straight section of the path. He settled his hands once again on Alexander’s belly and just exhaled a deep sigh, fully resting his head on his shoulder, chin on his collarbone. He could feel Alexander breathing against his hands, and it was just as rhythmic as everything else. At first, it had been quick like it usually was when he was atop the animal. But now it was steady and deep, falling into a drowsy lull. Thomas innately matched his breathing; he was curled around his fiance and it was nearly impossible to avoid it. Alexander was a part of him in that moment. He was his lungs. 

All three of them were in that lethargic state, letting the sun shafts warm the fabric on their backs. Tarquin knew the way, and he knew he knew the way, so who cared if these jackasses dozed off? Thomas lifted his heavy lids when he realized they had fallen closed, and he took a long deep inhale, lungs expanding, filled with the woodland aroma of warm, damp soil and pine needles in the sun. He lifted his head to wake them both up, nuzzling up in Alexander’s neck past his hair, and pressing a deep kiss to his warm skin. He smelled nice, as per usual, today like chocolate (the cookies they made yesterday really didn’t last. New discovery, making twice as many this time just means Alexander eats twice as fast. Noted.)

“Hey. Don’t fall asleep on me.” Thomas grumbled, reaching slowly up under Alexander’s shirt to rub his hand on Alex’s little belly in an attempt to arouse him from drifting away.   
“Not sleep…” Alexander slurred incoherently, not moving at all as he rested against Thomas. The larger man pulled him a little closer, arms under his and resting on his belly under his shirt.   
“Come on. I don’t want to wake up in Manhattan or some shit.”  
“I don’t think anybody does.” Alexander lazily gave his witty reply. 

“Exactly.” Thomas laughed a hot huff through his nose, smiling against Alex’s skin and brushing his lips up to just below his ear, pressing another kiss. He couldn’t help himself; he was completely defenseless to the urge, and so they both let it happen like usual, the smaller tilting his head with a helpless grin and an undisguised sigh at the feeling of the soft lips on his body. Every time. Every time was twice as good as the last time Thomas touched him in any way. 

“Mm... “ Alex hummed heavily, trying to turn over his shoulder, but Thomas was still busy at his neck. Thomas vaguely realized what Alex wanted, and they both blindly found each other’s lips over Alex’s shoulder, licking into one another’s mouth. They breathed against one another’s faces as their hips rocked along with Tarquin's hoof falls, slowly, lethargically opening and closing their mouths at a completely unhurried pace. When Alexander started to get lazy and nod off against Thomas’s shoulder to let him do all the work, the taller man hummed. 

“Nope. Wake up you little shit.” he rubbed his belly again.   
“No. This is your fault.” Alex leaned back heavily into him, not hiding it this time.   
“How?”  
“You made us get up at five in the morning and finish Cabinet work so we could do this.”  
“Do what? Make sure our wedding isn’t a complete disaster like your damn ass?”  
“Shut up.”

“Hey. Watch it, wise-guy.” Thomas placed a gentle warning bite where the neck meets the shoulder, just squeezing the warm skin between his teeth. Alex gasped nevertheless, “Don’t try to be smart with me, alright?”

“No promises.”  
“Your funeral.” Thomas shrugged, knowing full well that he’d spank that ass in the middle of the woods; he didn’t care about formalities. Plus it would probably wake up both of them, which was clearly much needed. Thomas hugged Alexander closer and posted his chin over his shoulder like a puppy. Suddenly his breathing hitched, becoming ragged and uneven, but Thomas wasn’t worried. Alex’s muscles tensed as he sneezed--this cute little “choo!” that never matched up with the dramatic preparation for it. Thomas, on the other hand, was the LOUD sneezer. 

“What’s that gotta be? Sixteen?”  
“Fifteen…” Alexander grumbled irritably, lifting his sleeve to rub across his face with a wet sniff.  
“Don’t rub it.” Thomas grabbed his wrist and pinned it back down to his thigh, “We talked about this.”  
“Stop, this is torture; you have no idea what this feels like.” he complained congestedly, blinking madly and scrunching his face to try and itch without touching it.

“No, but I DO know that red eyes and hives feel worse. Don’t touch. You should be used to that command by now.”  
“Ha. Ha.” Alex huffed sarcastically, unamused as they thudded alone in the woods, “Very mature, Thomas.”  
“YOU made it immature, dumbass.”

Alex crossed his arms, and Thomas hugged them to the immigrant’s chest, swaying him back and forth a bit with closed eyes. Alexander pretended to hate it even though he was basking, and rolled his eyes when Thomas kissed his temple and pressed his cheek to it after. 

“Fuck pollen, ever consider that I’m allergic to Presidents?”  
“You weren’t allergic to Washington.” Thomas grinned, kissing him over and over down his neck. Alexander just grunted. 

“Never said GOOD presidents.” he grumbled. Thomas bit him again, a little harder this time, and trailed the searing hot tip of his tongue back up Alexander’s jugular. Alex shivered at the feeling and lurched, when it caught him WAY off guard, and his eyes snapped open. He reached behind him and clutched at the fabric on Thomas’s thighs to retain his balance. Thomas breathed hotly into his ear, brushing his wet lips over it. 

“Weren’t allergic last night, were you, ma sale petite pute?” he purred deeply, southern drawl dripping sweetly on his French like thick drizzled honey. Alexander closed his eyes to suppress another shudder of pleasure.   
“Don’t you turn me on on horseback, Thomas Jefferson.” Alexander tried to scold, “Cruel, cruel man.”

“I’m the master of cruel boners, baby boy.” he laughed, arrogantly smug, and pushed his hand down the front of Alexander’s pants. The smaller gasped, legs jerking up involuntarily as his eyes fluttered. His breath hitched in his chest. 

“I’m…” he breathed airily, swallowing to compose himself as Thomas rubbed the warm pad of a thumb up and down his shaft, “I’m pretty sure Tarquin wants to throw himself in the lake right now.” Thomas laughed, lightly, retracting his hand from Alexander’s front and replacing them on his belly once more. 

“I’ll spare my steed the trauma and save my little prize for later.” he growled, squeezing Alex.  
“You’d better not be referring to my cock.” Alex wheezed, straining as his air was cut off a bit by how hard Thomas was holding him, just trying to put all his love SOMEWHERE, to wrap it all up, “Because I’m packing INCHES, dickhead, and you know it.”

“Not as much as me.” Thomas mumbled playfully, reaching up to brush a strand of Oak pollen out of his fiance’s long hair, fluttering in the warm breeze. Alex’s hair had an astounding skill for picking up pollen that Thomas’s had to pluck out. 

Alexander scoffed indignantly, bemused, “Well, Mr. President, I’m sure being six foot five is a big help.”  
“Height barely has an effect.”  
“Then if that’s true, I proportionally have a bigger dick than you. Checkmate.”

Thomas paused, steering Tarquin towards the lake, the iridescent glimmer of glittering water just visible through the newborn thickening leaves.   
“What?” Thomas made a face.   
“Mhm.” Alexander lifted his chin and nodded curtly, aloof in satisfaction, “I pack a solid seven inches, bitch. You’re nine. And you’re also ten inches taller than me or something. So I win.” 

“That’s…” Thomas pursed his lips and squinted, shaking his head, “Mmmyeah, that’s not how it works.” he replied sarcastically apologetically.   
“Sorry, what was that? Can’t hear you over the sound of every man in New York moaning my name.”

The immigrant threw his head back over Thomas’s shoulder, eyes squeezed shut and arching his back against Thomas’s front. He opened his mouth wide, trying not to burst out laughing as he moaned exaggeratedly.   
“AlexANDER!” he wailed his own name blissfully, giggling when Thomas clapped his hand over his fiance’s mouth. Alex growled playfully, as Thomas yanked his head back, one hand over his mouth and the other cupping his throat, extending it back. Alex jerked once just for shits, and Thomas held him firmly, pressing his ear to his lips for the second time. 

“Naughty, naughty…” he tut tutted, clucking with his tongue, “I’d be very careful with my next steps, Alexander. Very careful…” His voice was dripping with warning as Thomas slowly let him go, and Alex lifted his head to normal position once more. Thomas watched with a light smile as Alexander retook the reins, obeying his warning. 

“Such a good boy.” Thomas purred, stroking two fingers down the nape of Alexander’s neck, petting him rhythmically.   
“Never ceases to amaze me. You go from zero to daddy in two seconds flat.” Alex shook his head in joyous wonder.   
“Only when you go from zero to smart-mouth in two seconds flat.”  
“Ha. Touché.” Alexander grinned with a head bounce, reining Tarquin to a stop when their clearing came into view. 

The horse’s hooves thumped on the earth, slowing to a stop and tossing his head. The reins slipped out of Alexander’s hands and he gasped, lurching forward as they slipped hotly between his fingers and yanked him forward in the saddle. Thomas grunted, tightening his grip around his fiance’s waist and catching him firmly. 

“Woah, woah, woah. It’s okay honey.” Thomas laughed, feeling Alex’s heart patter and his breathing quicken, “He’s telling us that he knows where we are and we can get off now. All good.”

Alexander coughed slightly, nodding a little too quickly to not be nervous. The immigrant had to pause a moment before he could speak.   
“I knew that.”  
“Mhm. You’re doing great.”

Alex sighed, “Don’t lie; I know I’m ass.” Alex grumbled grumpily, adrenaline still pumping breathlessly a bit as he swung a leg over the front to avoid kicking Thomas, and slid off, shirt coming up a bit as he rubbed the saddle. 

“In general, yes. At horse riding, no.” Thomas teased, hooking Tarquin’s reins on a branch (like that was even necessary with an animal as intelligent as he) and swung off himself, boots thudding to the ground with baffling elegance. He strode towards Alexander like a reverend king, chin high in the air as usual, and beckoned him to his arms. 

“Come here.”  
“No.”  
“Yes.”  
“Mmph.” Alex huffed as Thomas turned him around and pressed a kiss to his upturned face, never tiring of kissing him. Somehow, the twenty-year old had grown a bit since they first met, and Alexander had--well--not. This didn’t change much other than Alexander’s need to stand on his tippy toes a bit more. Thomas let his hands rest on Alexander’s hips, lifting him up a degree to take the pressure off his toes, and Alex’s mood magically transformed from slightly shaken to relaxed once again as he felt the warmth of Thomas’s lips on his. It was a mystical little remedy that seemed to work over and over again without fail. Every time. 

Alex had his hands up on Thomas’s shoulders, forearms resting against his chest to pull himself up some, and the two lovers were framed by the fiery, glistening surface of the lake. And the spectacle that they came to observe so many times before. Arching behind them was the detailed, ivory-colored wedding arbor that had been built the previous month and settled in place. The lovers had planted the wisteria to climb the curving arch, adorning it in with it’s fern-green vines and hanging, soft purple flowers. Both being exceptional gardeners, it was absolutely stunning against the white wood and against the backdrop, which was breathtaking in the fading light. 

The sunset glimmered on the surface of the water, igniting it like flames as it glittered and gleamed with the slight breeze, lapping faintly on the shore. Pale green trees framed the water’s edge, some hanging low and touching the body with rafts of pollen drifting.   
Their clearing was the beautiful glen where they had camped together all those months ago, tall, ancient oaks watching over it, waxy leaves shading and dappling the wooded dell with tiny patches of sunlight. Only the arbor was in full exposure, an ornate altar already posted behind it for Jane’s husband to perform the ceremony. It was all set. It was all ready. The chairs would come down once the family arrived in town to help out, and the flowers would be set up and adorning the entire service, embellishing every chair and the path of the aisle with white roses and lilac.

Thomas exhaled against his lover's face, concluding satisfyingly and pulling away gently. Alex touched their foreheads, not wanting to let go just yet, so Thomas waited. He felt the boy smile against their barely-touching lips and laugh lightly. He fluttered his eyes open, staring at Thomas’s long lashes until he opened his too, jet black eyes gazing into his fiance’s. 

“Let’s walk down the aisle again.” Alex whispered, trailing his hand down Thomas’s arm until he reached his hand. Their fingers interlaced naturally, and Thomas squeezed, feeling their wedding rings press together. 

“Again?”  
“Yeah.” Alex breathed, pressing against Thomas’s side and making sure that his hand was firm in his.   
“You know that Washington is walking you down the aisle, not me, right?”  
“I know, I know, but it’s fun.”  
“It implies that I’m a father figure.”  
“Well.”

Thomas huffed a laugh and went along with it, lifting Alexander’s hand on top of the flat back of his own like a true gentleman, and gave him one sideways glance. Alex looked up and couldn’t stifle his overwhelming love. He looked so beautiful. Thomas’s raven hair was illuminated in the falling sun, the breeze, baffling it just a bit, blowing the strands around his ears. 

And the symbolic aspect of those ebony eyes to the immigrant was that they seem so black, so full of darkness. But only in eyes as dark as those does the world around them reflect.

“Ready?” Thomas inquired politely.   
“Cue the music.” Alex grinned, knowing that he was born ready. Thomas hummed the wedding march, Canon in D major by Pachelbel. 

On their previous visits, Alexander had discovered Thomas’s astounding voice. It was so deep and smooth, giving the impression of a stone sinking… sinking to the bottom of the stillest lake; it was a voice everyone would feel in their chest as he sang, closing their eyes and drifting into a cool trance. His vibrato was impeccable, low and reverberating like blowing into a thick glass bottle or gourd. And yet he never performed that voice around anyone but Alexander, another little secret that the two lovers shared. 

Alexander could feel the buildup in his chest, and he closed his eyes, knowing confidently that Thomas would guide him the right way, never leading him astray. He felt the sun on his skin, the fresh smell of the lake water in his nose.

And he imagined the priest in front of them, welcoming him, as Thomas stood at the altar in his best clothes, waiting to accept Alexander for the first time. He imagined the family on either side, watching as he strolled in to the beat of the violin, Washington, his only father figure guiding him slowly down the aisle. All the Jeffersons all around him, wiping tears from their eyes quietly, Alex’s friends, Hercules, Lafayette, and John doing so… NOT so quietly. 

He could see it. It was... all there. And for a moment, Thomas’s humming sounded just like a violin, almost indistinguishable, surrounding him, inside of him, striking a chord in the deepest part of his heart. The surreal moment gently passed when they slowed to a stop and Thomas turned his little lover softly, taking his other hand. Alex blinked his eyes open to gaze right up into Thomas’s, who’s eyes were smiling just as much as the rest of his face. Above them, lavender clusters of Wisteria vine dangled in lavish abundance. 

Alexander took a step closer and bit his lip, looking around them at the little hollow in the woods, grass illuminated gold in the sunset. It was too beautiful to him… but suddenly his heart sank.

“Thomas... Hey, I’m sorry.” he breathed, biting his lip again. Thomas’s brows furrowed, twitching downwards in concern.   
“Why?”  
“This… is everything I ever wanted. Everything I imagined and more, but.” he looked down, “I’m sorry the President couldn’t have a grand public wedding. That’s all. A President's wedding.”  
he shrugged.

Thomas’s face melted back into a smile, and let go of Alex’s hand just to cup his cheek. Thomas forced him to look in his eyes, passion brimming in his own as he brushed his thumb over his cheekbone. 

“I love you, Alexander.” he shook his head slightly, “But you have to be one of the dumbest people I know.”  
“Hey!” Alex scoffed in offended shock, not expecting that reaction, but Thomas was lighthearted, still gazing at him with all the love in the world in his eyes. The man chuckled, wrapping Alex into his arms. 

“You think I want a public wedding?” he spoke, voice rumbling against Alex’s chest, “If it meant the whole world sees how much I adore you, yeah sure. In a heartbeat. But if you think I want a big, expensive wedding in a Cathedral that has no meaning to us just because it’s a ‘President’s wedding’, you’re pretty dumb.” 

“I know, I know that. I just don’t want to throw you out of your comfort zone, rich boy.” Alex shrugged, wrapping his arms under Thomas’s and around his waist, pressing the side of his head to his chest to listen to his heartbeat whilst gazing out at the lake. The glimmer was bright in his eyes, but he didn’t mind. 

“My comfort zone, honey, is where you are.” Thomas rumbled, placing a deep kiss on top of Alexander’s head. For some inexplicable reason, the words made Alex’s throat swell, the lump sitting heavily in his neck. Tears blurred his vision, welling up because that statement… something about it that he couldn’t put his finger on was more powerful than it seemed. It carried…. So MUCH inside of it. 

“Good.” Alex spoke simply, nodding curtly againsts Thomas’s chest, and Thomas knew by now that a short response from THIS loudmouth meant that he was trying not to cry. Thomas laughed sympathetically, pulling him closer and tilting his chin up with one finger. 

“Oh, sweetie…” he chuckled when he gazed down at those glistening eyes to see the threat of tears. His heart beat completely and absolutely for Alexander in that moment alone on the lake, just the two of them.   
“There is no place I would rather be.” he whispered, letting his eyes fall closed just as he touched his soft lips to his husband-to-be’s. They stayed there for a long time, awaiting the day that was so close and yet so very far. But.... they could wait just a little bit longer if it meant suspending this moment. 

Yes, they thought, holding each other so gently. 

They could stay here for just a while longer. 

**

“Naked! Naked baby coming through.” George’s voice rang from Eleanor’s bedroom, followed by the patter of little feet on the floor. James chuckled lightly, dipping his head down to dab his paintbrush in the hazelnut colored dollop of oil paint on his artist palette and sniff, returning it to the canvas to pat it on the right side rhythmically. Sure enough, the sound of little feet turned the corner and James looked over his shoulder and broke out into a grin. 

Little Eleanor went running by, hair done in braids and bouncing on her tiny back, but other than that completely naked, as George had warned. He only saw a glimpse of her dashing through before George passed as well, dress wrapped up in hand. The determination on both of their faces made James want to wheeze as the affection swelled up in his heart. 

He turned back to his painting and continued without bothering to help and interrupt that father-daughter moment, feeling the warm breeze from the open French Doors on his face.   
“I believe in you, George.” James called lightly, listening to the high pitched squeak and laugh as the child was clearly caught somewhere in the living room. George grunted, fitting her into her dress as she talked. 

“Why do I HAVE to wear?”  
“Because you have to. Look at how pretty you’re going to look.”  
“Don’t wanna.”  
“Arms up, my dove.”   
"No."

For a bit, there was just rustling of fabric and the sound of wet bristles on canvas, until the thud of footsteps rounded back into the study. Walking this time. 

“Good Lord.” George breathed with a huff, causing James to turn over his shoulder once more. The man was frazzled, some hair sticking up as he strolled slowly inas if completely exhausted, “I’m getting too old for this.”  
He bounced Eleanor up and down heavily on his hip until she was giggling and asking him to go faster like he was a pony. James watched them with a twinkle in his eye and laughed. 

“Thirty-one years old. Ancient, my love.” he grinned playfully, watching George groan exaggeratedly when he set down their little girl. They both looked down on her with soft smiles as she ran out the French doors and into the garden. 

“Not too far, dove.” James called, and there was a simple “Okay!” as a response as she rounded behind a bush to play. They watched her until they couldn’t see her anymore, and James’s attention remained trained on the Virginia Spring, the willow in their yard illuminated by the setting sun. A sigh from George brought him back to reality, and he turned away from his canvas to set his palette and brush quietly on the table. 

“What are you working on? Same painting?”  
“Yes.” James nodded, moving to carry the easel back off into the closet. George took a slow step forward, sauntering up to him.   
“And can I see it yet? You can’t hide it forever, darling.” he purred, leaning his hip up against the table and crossing his legs leisurely. James had been avoiding and stashing his work away for weeks now, never letting George get so much of a glimpse. 

“It’s not done. You shall see it at the wedding like everybody else.” James nodded curtly, turning away with his snooty nose up in the air, and George grinned. George loved every moment of his revived vigor and liveliness. He hadn’t had a coughing fit in months. And Eleanor was the sun, moon and stars of both of their lives, bringing back the too-early-stolen youth from James Madison. 

“Come now, my dearest husband. You know I marvel at even your smallest sketches.” George purred fondly, perhaps a little too obvious.   
“Flattery, is this?” James raised an eyebrow.  
“Honesty.” George nodded deeply, watching James skeptically, slowly set the easel back down in place. The younger man squinted, hesitant. 

“IF. I show you, will you swear you won’t judge. It’s not finished”  
“I know. And I’m sure it is exemplary.” George crossed his arms, trying not to show his true giddy excitement that he would get to see the gift James had been working on for Thomas and Alexander’s wedding, or James might change his mind. The younger seemed to give it one more moment of thought before finally making up his mind. 

“Alright. Remember you promise.” he lifted his chin and stepped away from the front of his painting, revealing it in the flooding golden shafts of light of the open-door library. 

As soon as George’s eyes settled on the paint of that canvas… his heart stopped. He was completely speechless because there… there were no words for this painting. For this… MASTERpiece. None at all in the English language.

James watched his husband’s face fall slack, his eyes widening, his lips parting with a breath of surprise. 

For a while, neither spoke as James let George take it in, not wanting to interrupt the moment. He’d let George speak first. He'd let him guide this conversation. After what felt like an eternity, the ex-President finally found the words to express something, not what he was feeling, but something.

“James… this is…” he shook his head, standing up straight from the leaning position he had been lounging in. He was trapped in a state of awed wonder, and finally managed to break away from the painting to look at his lover. James was smiling helplessly, trying to hold down the satisfaction and pride. 

“I have no words. I have no words.” He repeated himself because he was telling the truth, there was nothing else he could think of to say. James lifted the glasses onto his face to try and stifle his grin. 

“Do you think they’ll recognize that it’s them?”  
George gaped, head swinging to James in absolute befuddlement. He shook his head once more, heart beating faster at the pure WONDER.

“Recognize? James… to say it LOOKS like them isn’t NEARLY enough. It IS them; they’re standing here with us in this room, my God....”  
“You really think so?” James blushed, utterly flattered.  
“Yes!” George laughed, a gaping face breaking out into a smile as well. He drew his hand to his mouth, holding it there and turning his attention back to the painting, too enthralled in it to look away.

The canvas was glistening, framed by the golden evening outside. And within the paint itself… Thomas Jefferson and Alexander Hamilton stared right back at them. It was a traditional portrait, solid background with the couple as the main focus… but…

James had painted in subtle little nuances that only a trained eye--an eye that truly knew Thomas and Alexander--would see. George’s blue eyes darted across the surface once more taking in the details. Alexander’s classic half smile and the barely noticeable glint in Thomas’s dark ones that showed pure joy. They stood close to each other, but not close enough that it was distinguishable that they were a couple. Their hands were folded neatly at their fronts, but if you looked closely enough, you could see the twinkle of two wedding rings, just barely touching against each other. 

“It’s…” James spoke, wanting to explain, “The evidence of their marriage is hidden so they don’t have to hide the painting or destroy it. But they’re still there, just… hiding, per se.” he elaborated, and George just nodded in wonder once more. 

“I understand. I simply... I have no words to express to you how beautiful of a piece of artwork this is, James. You need to know that this is… this is special.” George had barely even noted that he was walking towards his husband until he had taken his hands in his own, gazing down into those light eyes. All dullness had seeped away months ago, leaving them clear and expressive like they were when he was eighteen. He smiled softly, almost worried. 

“Do you think they’ll like it?” He whispered hopefully, squeezing George’s hands. The taller pursed his lips in an attempt to contain all of his overflowing passion, shaking his head once again.

“They. Will. Love it.” he breathed, curling James into his arms all at once, unable to contain it anymore after he’d reached his limit. James chuckled, trying to free his arms to reciprocate. George closed his eyes and sighed deeply, the smell of warm paint and wood in the sun filling his nose and calming him. When he finally opened them once again, he could see Eleanor hopping in the garden, pointing at something and talking to it with that lovely imagination she had. So intelligent like James. 

They stayed there, James enveloped in his arms and George just watching their daughter play innocently in the budding flowers. Thomas and Alexander just stood side by side in the portrait, half smiles and rings to show that there was nothing in that room but unabashed love… Nothing other than love.


	54. Something They can Never Take Away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Describing the onslaught of technical difficulties that led to finally posting this chapter for you all would take far too long, so let me only say that I sincerely apologize for the wait, and say that it will hopefully never recur. I can't thank you enough for bearing with me through this, and I hope you enjoy! Stick around for the epilogue; we're not done yet! ;D I love you all so much, and your support and patience means the world to me! Read on!

Thomas trotted through the parlor which smelled like the earthy garden from having the doors open since six o’ clock that morning--four hours now. He weaved around the sitting area and jogged lightly into the entrance hall that was bustling and overcrowded with activity. He paused in the wide threshold and glanced around.

They had gotten all of the round tables out in the gardens and set with all of the place settings, silverware, and china, and now they were starting to move down the chairs using a horse buggy, which were crammed into the space along with scattered luggages and trunks that had almost made it to people’s rooms. Martha set down a couple chairs on the floor with a huff and reached up to re-tie the ribbon holding up Eliza’s hair. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Thomas.   
“Looking for something, Thomas?” The man rubbed two fingers briefly over his eyebrows, trying to fend off the irritation. Not towards her, towards another specific person.

“Some_one_, yes.”  
“Again?” She drawled boredly, jerking her arm to curtly fasten the ribbon and pat Eliza’s hips in a satisfied manner. 

“Yes. Again.” Thomas huffed a bit muffledly as he turned his back to the entrance hall and peeked behind him, double-checking that his object of search was not coming up behind him. 

“It’s like trying to... pick up a quarter with wet fingers.” he grumbled, turning again to the entrance hall, and Martha shrugged, casting him a smug glance over her shoulder as she reapproached her chairs. 

“Check upstairs.”  
“He wouldn’t.”  
“Could he possibly be along with Randolph? I haven’t seen him or Ruben lately either.”

“Well, fuck.” Thomas let his hands slap down exhaustedly to his sides, “Is anyone in this goddamn house doing any work?”  
“The women.” Martha snorted without a hint of joke in her voice, hoisting up the chairs into her strong grip, “We’re the reason anything ever gets done in this place. I don’t even want to ponder what filth you would live in without us.” Martha turned her head up to her dark-haired friend as she breezed by Thomas and trekked out through the parlor.

Thomas, despite the mood he was in, couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. That woman would always keep everyone in check--just as much as he did--with her terseness and zero-bullshit attitude. Although, she was extra impatient lately with how long Thomas’s women’s suffrage bill was taking in Congress, one which she had been a huge part of constructing.

Eliza smiled over at Thomas, weaving with a swishing of a skirt between some chairs to pick some up.   
“Don’t mind her, your excellency. She thinks this is her wedding to put on.”

“It might as well be.” he huffed a laugh, rubbing a hand over his forehead to rake back his hair, “And really, don’t call me ‘your excellency’. I’m not your president, I’m family.”

“And my president.” she dipped her head with a modest blink, unable to hide her grin. The two of them did this a lot, and Thomas could never manage to crack her. She was good; if Martha was tough as nails, Eliza matched her with kinder wit. This time, he just gave up because the proposition that Alexander was with Randolph and Ruben wasn’t settling well with him. 

“To be continued. Need to catch my runaway groom. And my brother too.” He sighed, turning away, but cast one last glance over at Eliza hoisting up two chairs into her arms. 

“Hell, maybe your fiance is right: the ment aren’t doing shit around here today.”  
“Perhaps not today.” Eliza softened his words with a shrug and a smile, gliding past him with impressive grace for the hefty load she was carrying and into the parlor after her new fiery little fiancé, her dark hair and tall figure framed by the light from the wide open doors. Those two truly made the greatest pair in Thomas’s point of view. But right now, there was another pair to focus on. 

The president meandered through a haphazard row of chairs and trunks, placing his feet carefully before he got to the North Passage entrance and could breathe again. He huffed a sigh, passing the dining room on the left and placing his hand on the stair banister to swing onto the first step. His feet thumped on the carpeted stairs as he climbed, spiraling up.

He couldn’t imagine what Alexander would be doing with Randolph and Ruben, but he hoped that it wasn’t something that he would have to beat his ass for. God knows that Randolph was a flirty little troublemaker who, despite recently turning eighteen, had not matured very much in his promiscuous, risque personality. The aspect that _had_ changed in his life was Ruben, his boyfriend. Platinum blonde and Florida-born, he was Randolph's age and equally the trouble maker, completing a trio between himself, Randolph, and Anna. The boy was attractive, yes, but not Thomas’s type; he was less boyish and cute, more height and muscles. He was more of the guy Thomas would compete with instead of one he would want, but obviously now, it didn’t matter to him either way. He was completely out of the game for life because he only had eyes for one boy now. One… stupid, arrogant, pain in the ass, lazy, adorable, intelligent little fuck. 

Thomas silently cursed himself for falling completely into love with the brat but only playfully, as he came to the second floor and stepped up onto the landing.   
“Alexander?” he called, boots clunking on the hardwood. He paused for a minute to listen to the utter silence. The bedroom that he could see--Randolph’s--was completely empty. His brows furrowed. The Virginian was about to step inside when he heard a rustling from one of the bedrooms down to the left. His ears perked up, alert, and his head whipped to the side. There was a series of shuffling, and then two thumps that made him blink. 

“Alex…?” he began again, but before he could finish, a figure stumbled out from a room and into the doorway. He gained his footing and recovered by placing a casual arm on the doorframe and the other on their hip like the cheesiest actor on the face of the fucking planet. 

“Hey babe.” He coughed lightly, a smile spreading guiltily across his face as he crossed his ankles. Thomas’s heart gave an uncharacteristically hard thump as he swept Alex up and down. His hair was a wreck, a loop of it was sticking out messily, and he wasn’t wearing shoes. Somehow the train-wreck of a man looked angelic in the morning sunlight flooding from the room. Thomas scowled.

“Nice of you to turn up.” he stepped towards him, strolling across the hardwood, “Half an hour and you’ve only carried one chair and disappeared.” 

Alex’s face tilted up to meet his eyes as he approached and stopped in front of him, “Yeah, well I carried like four tables, and I didn’t feel well.” he tucked a knotted piece of hair behind his ear in an awkward movement.   
“Oh wow, really. I’m so sorry.” Thomas breathed in false sympathy, towering over Alex, who was indiscreetly trying to block the door. The Virginian smiled softly down at him and curled his arms around his waist. He pulled him against his body and reached down to squeeze his cute ass.

“Oh…” Alex gasped, jumping a bit at the feeling, and Thomas pushed him back into the room with a few steps.   
“What hurts?” Thomas smiled mischievously against Alex’s forehead, pressing his lips there for a kiss, “I don’t feel a fever. Nope.” his voice was muffled against his forehead, and he pulled away. Inside of the spare guest room, he saw the bed unmade and glanced back at Alex.  
“Stomach hurt.”

“Oh really? Hurt so bad you ate an entire baguette.” Thomas broke away from him, walking towards the bed. Alex stood in place, already caught red-handed, and there was no hope in hiding that he’d snacked and collapsed in an empty guest bedroom.   
“I didn’t eat an entire--” Thomas turned around and held up two ends of a baguette. Alexander never ate the ends; he didn’t like them. The immigrant coughed, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. 

“Not… technically an entire baguette.” he defended weakly, poking at a spot on the floor with his toe as Thomas reapproached. The man tossed one end and let it smack down in his palm before he brought it up to his mouth and tore off a chunk with his teeth. 

“Unfortunately for you, I want to beat your ass with a hairbrush right now. But lucky you, the ends are my favorite part, so.” he shrugged, chewing. Alex laughed and stepped by Thomas to his shoes at the base of the bed.

“We complete each other. You know I’m only marrying you because we are compatible baguette partners. It’s the sole reason.”  
“Well. Same.” 

Alexander slipped on his shoes, bending over for Thomas to get a good peek at that ass. Alex’s long hair fell in front of his face while he was tying, and Thomas just kept chewing, thinking of new ways he was going to keep Alexander under his constant supervision until it was time to get in their wedding clothes. The simple through gave him a shot of thrilled, terrified adrenaline lancing through his chest. 

“Actually, if we eat one then kiss, we briefly make a whole baguette.”  
Thomas paused and stopped chewing, jarred out of his thoughts by another one of Alexander’s comedic bits. He cocked his head at Alex with a straight face and parted his lips. The immigrant just kept on tying his shoes. 

“I’m calling off the wedding for the singular reason that those words just came out of your mouth. God, Alex...”  
“Ha!” Alex barked a laugh and stood back up to brush himself off and completely pretend that the breadcrumbs falling from his waistcoat didn’t exist. Thomas was still trying to digest that disturbing thought as Alex approached him once again with a sly little grin on his face. He knew that look.

Jesus Christ, here came the King of Sex Drives. The Secretary of the Treasury sighed happily, lifting his arms above his head like he was going to stretch, but then brought them down daintily to hook around Thomas’s neck. 

“So, my lovely, lovely dick-provider.”  
“Wow.”  
“You want to…” he nodded back to the guest bed, and then looked back up to Thomas with his brown eyes, waggling his eyebrows, “Tumble ‘n thuh haystayucks.” he pulled up the corner of his mouth to exemplify his grossly exaggerated Southern accent.   
Thomas looked to the ceiling for a fraction of a second to gain the strength from God not to throttle his beloved fiance on their wedding day. At least wait until the reception. 

“Nope. Let’s go.” Thomas bent his knees without warning to curl his hands around the backs of Alex’s thighs. He huffed in effort as he hoisted him up to sit on top of his hips, a place he was more than used to visiting. 

“You want to marry a president tonight, you’re gonna carry some chairs like the rest of the Jeffersons. Consider it an initiation.”  
“I will marry a president tonight.” Alex gazed down into his dak, deep eyes as he walked, hips shifting beneath his thighs that he clenched expertly. Alex lifted a hand to cup Thomas’s cheek and gaze lovingly into his eyes. For a few blissful moments, the two were completely silent, letting their love speak.

“Washington.” Alexander grinned.   
“Fucking--” Thomas growled, scolding him, but Alex laughed and pressed his lips warmly onto Thomas’s as he walked towards the stairs, cutting him off before he could snarl anyting at him. Thomas concluded the kiss after a few seconds, setting Alex down at the landing, their bodies rubbing together and causing Alex’s shirt to ride up a bit on his chest. Thomas ghosted his hand over the banister and began to descend, and Alex waited to follow, a little breathless from being woken up from a good half hour nap and carried. 

“Oh, you seen Randolph or Ruben?” Thomas called over his shoulder from one spiral down. Alex hopped down the steps after him, feet thudding on the carpet.   
“No. Why?”  
“They’re missing in action just like your lazy ass.” 

“Maybe they’re sick of hauling furniture too.”   
“You’re right, maybe they’re spineless jackoffs.”  
“Fuck you. And your chairs.”

“Our chairs. And watch your language, there’s kids running around here like rats.” As if on cue, before the words were even out of his mouth, baby Catherine and her twin sister came thundering down the North Passage with those pudgy little baby feet in this strange half-loping walk. They were extremely ahead of the curve for their age, and they were everywhere, if not walking, crawling faster than terrified Lexi, who they seized by the tail and hugged like a doll until she mewled for her favorite, Thomas, to come rescue her. That cat and Thomas were practically inseparable, which made Alex glad since she was a gift from him to Thomas, but they had their quarrels.

(“I wouldn’t have got you that thing if I’d known she’d be a fucking cockblock.”

“Ay, this ‘thing’s name is Lexi, and you can wait twenty minutes until she finishes her nap. Give her a fucking break, Alex.”

“She’s been having a ‘break’ for three hours. In our bed. Right between us.”  
“It’s warm.”  
“Do I look like I care?”

“Do I look like I won’t reach over there and smack the mouth right off you? Thought so. Go finish the tax report I told you to write at work; God knows you haven’t started.”

“I have three more day--”  
“Go.” )

“Great…” Thomas mumbled, jogging after them down the hall, “Hey. Wise guy. Stop staring at my butt and start hauling some fuck--frickin chairs.” Thomas corrected himself, calling over his shoulder as he turned into the dining room to fetch Catherine and Anne before they broke something or themselves. 

“Go straight to heck.” he sauntered away with a snicker, accepting the fact that he’d have to confront Martha any second now and most likely get a lecture with a guilt trip as the icing on the cake. Their sibling-like rivalry had only grown the more he and Thomas spent time with Eliza and Martha to the amused exasperation of all. 

As the immigrant padded down the hallway towards the entrance hall, his ears perked up when he caught onto a faint sound, interrupting his thoughts.

He lurched to a pause and stood in the empty hallway, alert, and glanced around him. He strained his ears. There was a series of thumps and a couple of grunts, extremely muffled like they were in the walls or something. He did a three-sixty, brows swooping down when he landed on the pantry. He was familiar with the place, of course; it was the oasis of snacks that they didn’t have to walk outside to the kitchen for, mostly non-perishables. But he didn’t recall having rats or anything, not in this household with Lexi on the prowl, and he definitely didn’t recall the grapes grunting at each other in the past.

He made a face and squeamishly stepped forward towards the walnut door that had no lock to prevent getting locked in or out of it.

He took a couple quiet steps, straining his ears to hear a couple of grunts and an exhale. Something thudded to the floor followed by…

Alexander’s eyes widened. There was a mumbling of words and some shuffling. Someone was in there, but why? And why with the door shut? With his hand extended, he turned the knob and pulled; his heart was already thumping like a hummingbird’s wings in his chest as the latch clicked open and the hinges creaked. The door groaned and he stood before it. 

As soon as his eyes fell on the contents, his jaw fell open. Two heads snapped sideways in his direction, hair flinging with shock. There was only a fleeting moment of eye contact between Alex’s light brown and Randolph’s green before Alex slammed the door shut and stood there with wide eyes. 

For a few moments, he couldn’t move at all in pure shock. 

Birds tweeted outside. There was some quiet talk from the entrance hall. Five minutes must have passed before he slowly took a step to the side and started to walk stiffly away. His feet thudded on the hall’s rug and the closer he got to the dining room, the more the smirk spread on his face. Holy mother of God, Thomas was going to lose his shit if Alex didn’t lose it first.

He strolled into the open doorway and hummed lightly, pleasantly as Thomas came into view. He was at the threshold of the dining hall and the parlor, handing Catherine and Anne back to Mary and speaking to her as he lifted a twin from her place on his hip and Mary took her. Alexander sauntered further into the room and quietly slid into a chair, lowering down and pretending to get comfortable when Thomas finally turned around. His dark eyes scanned Alex up and down as he turned and approached. 

“When the hell did you get in here?” he sneered, straightening his cravat. Alexander shrugged coyly.  
“Just now. Was checking the pantry.” Thomas stopped at the end of the table and placed a palm on it. He rapped his fingers once on the cool surface. 

“We need anything?” he lounged a bit, and Alex shrugged once again, looking out the window as if in contemplation. 

“Crackers for starters. Baguette because I may or may not have decimated that thing…” he pursed his lips, “What else, what else..” he tapped his finger on the table too and then looked back at Thomas as if the lightbulb just went off in his head. Thomas was already giving him the massively un-entertained look that he gave when he knew Alex was putting on a show and being a dramatic little shit. 

“Yes?” he drawled slowly with an unimpressed blink. 

“We’re nearly out of your brother getting plowed in the ass.” 

Thomas immediately made a face and straightened up. His brows swooped down, “What?” he spoke the word impossibly clearly, showing his teeth. Alex shuffled in his seat, leaning back a bit and crossing his arms. This was fun. 

“Yeah. Only have one left.”  
“Alexander.” Thomas interrupted him, taking one step closer. Alex followed him with his eyes, trying not to laugh. The man pursed his lips like he wanted to strangle the answer out of Alex, but was composing himself.  
“What the fuck are you talking about?”

Alexander slowly sat up to look his fiance in the eyes. 

“Your brother. His boyfriend. In the pantry. Pants at the knees.” he explained clearly and pointed up at Thomas for a moment, “And get this. You’ll never believe who’s a bottom now.” he bit his lip and nodded, his entire body bursting to break out into hysterical laughter. This was too fucking good. Thomas looked at the floor with bulging eyes, dumbstruck. He raked a hand through his hair.

“You’re fucking kidding me.” he exhaled, and Alexander opened his arms and leaned back in his seat once more.

“Yep. Randolph-playboy-Jefferson has joined the bottom gang.” he finally broke out into a wide smile and snickered with a devilish smirk, “I’ll have to give him some tips.”

“You’ll keep your mouth shut.” Thomas pointed at him and pushed off from the table to stride quickly and powerfully over towards the North Passage where Alex had come in. The immigrant’s face fell into a confused scowl, twisting his head over his shoulder and holding the back of the chair. 

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?”  
“This isn’t a whorehouse, Alexander, although with you in it, it’s awfully close.” he grumbled, turning right down the hallway. 

“Get chairs, now. I’m dealing with my dear brother.” he spat in the least kind tone towards both Alex and Randolph as he stormed down the hall. Alexander desperately wanted to see how this was going to go down, but on the other hand he didn’t want to see Thomas scolding his naked brother and his boyfriend for having a closet quickie on their wedding day. Instead, he just sighed and pushed with both hands against the table, scooting the chair across the hardwood. With one glance at the clock, his heart thumped in his chest, shooting a barrage of adrenaline and other feelings right into his blood. He gulped and thunked away from the dining room into the parlor. 

They’d been planning this for months now, everything from the flowers to the chairs to the food. The wedding was to take place in the clearing on the lake, the reception and late dinner in the gardens that had been scattered with candles along the paths to give them a warm glow once it was nighttime. It was a new moon, so the stars would glitter on what was hopefully going to be a clear night (they had both bitten their nails to nubs watching it rain and rain for three days prior to yesterday). 

Alex turned into the parlor and looked up at the portraits, the warm scent of the sun-warmed wood and porch flooding his nose. With one peek outside on the lawn, he spied Eliza and Martha standing on the grass and hoisting white chairs into the buggy drawn by Tarquin. With her hands on her hips, Eliza turned her head his way and her face lit up when she saw him. Alex made a frantic “Shhh don’t say anything” gesture at his neck, and Eliza grinned and looked the other way, a little twinkle in her eye as Alex slipped off into the entrance hall. 

He stopped when he was at the threshold and took a quiet, deep breath. Among the scattered suitcases, there were only a few chairs left to haul, and everything would be all set. He took a moment once again to try and let it sink in--to stare at the room and try to wrap his mind around the fact that it was happening, finally happening. When they had been planning it, he realized now, it felt like a dream, like they were writing a fantasy novel, or something that was not happening to them but to someone else in some fictitious world. But not looking at the house, the quiet entrance hall, he realized that this was it. This was going to be his home. This was his, and his husband’s house.

His husband. He smiled and bit his lip to stave it off at the word: he was going to have a motherfucking husband, and that was so crazy an fucking amazing that he wanted to jump ten feet in the air, pump his fist and just holler. He probably would eventually, and he knew it would be unpredictable, so God save whoever was near him when the excitement finally burst out. He and Thomas were going to be bound for life, and that was something to be cheering about. Something to run through the woods, head flung back, hair fluttering behind you and just screaming anything one pleases at all: being free.

Alexander had found himself confused why people that married for love made jokes about being trapped with one person for the rest of your life. Being stuck. Because as he stood there, thinking about his Thomas, he had never felt more _free_ in his life. 

Deep in thought, he hadn’t even realized the shuffling at the door until there was a heavy knock, ringing through the Jefferson manor.

His brows swooped down in contemplation; it had to be one of the Jeffersons, because the rest of the guests--Alexander’s friends, Washington and James--were all arriving later before the ceremony. He uncrossed his arms and weaved through the entrance hall, taking his best guess at who it could be. Most likely Thomas’s mother with Lucy, Betsey, and Anna, who would be missing her twin most dearly (he’d come with Ruben on their first solo trip a couple days before). 

“Coming.” Alex called in a clear tone, hopping over to the door, “Shit.” he hissed under his breath when his boot caught on a chair leg and he stumbled, but a slapping palm on the door steadied him. 

“Jesus… right in the entrance hall. You’re a genius, Thomas.” he whispered under his breath grumpily at the placement of the chairs, and yanked open the door, still a little annoyed. He hadn’t even cracked it before a moving figure only thigh-high ran inside with a little squeak. 

“Oof.” Alex grunted in surprise as the thing ran right into his leg and wrapped around it firmer than he would have thought. A curly head of hair confirmed his belief of who it was. 

“William!” he called out, tilting his head down with a gleaming grin to put both hands on the growing boy’s back and hug him. 

“God, you’re getting tall. Lemme look at you.” Alex bent down to hoist the boy up by his underarms, and he was grinning ear to ear. Both of them. 

“Heavy too. What’s up, man?”  
“Missed you, uncle Sander.”  
“Yeah?” Alex let the boy hug his waist with his legs as he beamed down at him, “What’ve you been doing? Where’s your mom?” the boy puffed his chest against his mini waistcoat that was priceless.   
“I knocked the door for her. She’s fat and can’t walk as fast as I can.” he spoke breathlessly like he’d run from the carriage. A little full of himself, but being Alexander Hamilton, he hardly noticed or disapproved of another fiery kindred spirit. The man tucked a curl behind the boy’s ear. 

“Well. Not saying much; you’re faster than everyone. Especially uncle Tom; have you seen him run?” he shook his head in an agreeable manner that William immediately copied, “So slow.”  
“Ehem.” There was a tiny cough from behind him and he craned his head over his shoulder. Miraculously, he retained a straight face for his next words.  
“Uh, the men are talking. Could you not?”   
Thomas stood in the doorway to the North Passage with his arms crossed now, but his eyes lit up when he saw William. Alex rolled his eyes with an obnoxious sigh and set the kid down on his feet to go thundering over to Thomas, who kneeled down to say hello to him.

“You look dashing in your new waistcoat, bud. Unlike my fiance who looks like he just crawled out of a ditch. In a hole. In the ground. In Philadelphia.” he shot Alex a loving look that the man returned with a cute, wrinkled nose that absolutely said, “bite me, fucker”.

But as the telltale creak sounded from the front door, both of their heads turned in synchronization. 

Alexander’s entire face softened. His brows turned up, and his lips parted. He held the door open and inhaled through his mouth that was tugging at the corners into a grin. 

“Jane…” he spoke as if his entire face had gone numb, but somehow he found the next words, “you look radiant.” he breathed, but he couldn’t hold back long enough before striding forward to pull her into his arms.

“Oh my God, I can’t believe you made it up here. Jesus.” he laughed, and she wrapped her arms around him. How could you not be close to the mother of your future child? Thomas stood back and allowed the moment to happen. He’d seen Jane’s state on a recent visit to Virginia, but Alex hadn’t. He deserved to have this moment, and Thomas couldn’t help the defenseless smile on his face.

He’d hoped he’d get to witness it. 

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Will’s been on and on about you for months; he admires you. And the baby, even though she’s still sitting tight.” Jane laughed, holding Alexander out to look at him and scan her green eyes over his face with a gorgeous smile. Alex looked down to her swollen belly in complete awe, in wonder. He couldn’t believe it… 

He swallowed, looking back up to her eyes, “Could I…” he gestured down to her bump, and she nodded, familiar with the paternal urge to do such things, and the man grinned. Both men did. Alex’s hands fell on her clothed, uncorseted dress front with impossible tenderness. He exhaled slowly, just taking a moment to let it sink in. His daughter was there, waiting for him. It was only a matter of time.

Not five seconds of standing there did he feel something, just a tiny little tapping vibration under his hands. Immediately, his head darted up to Jane, frightened he’d done something wrong, but she had a hand to her breast.   
“What was that?” he looked back and forth, instinctively glancing over his shoulder at Thomas, who stepped forth towards his fiance and sister with Will on his hip. 

“What’s wrong?” Jane answered though Alexander had his lips parted.

“It seems as though the baby knows her father.” she smiled up at Thomas, who set Will down beside them. Jane looked to her son. 

“Go find your cousins, honey.” she nodded her head off into the house and Will broke out into a run, leaving the three adults to stand close to each other in anticipation. Jane watched him go and returned her gaze down to Alexander.

“Alex, the baby gave you a kick. TJ, you want to try and feel?”  
“I would.” Thomas sniffed professionally like he wouldn’t get all sentimental like the other two as he came up behind Alex and placed his hands on her belly as well, overlapping just a bit on Alex’s smaller, paler fingers. Almost immediately, they felt another kick on their left hands. Thomas’s lips parted in a silent, “oh” of awe. Jane smiled coyly up at them both.

“Feel that one?”  
“Yeah.” Alexander laughed like a giddy teenager and turned his head to look back at Thomas, “You feel it babe?” he asked with this goddamn look on his face; he was just so utterly, hopelessly happy. The taller’s eyes softened and he nodded to hide the smile on his face.   
“Yeah, honey, I felt it.” 

“God, that’s miraculous…” he breathed, remembering where they were. He looked at Jane, “That’s a miracle. You’re a miracle.” She laughed like tinkling bells in the wind and placed a hand on top of her bump as Alex and Thoms drew back, still spellbound and speechless at the fact that this was their child going to be born. 

“I can’t wait to meet her.” Thomas rumbled, wrapping his arms around Alex’s waist and pulling him close while the smaller laced his hands above Thomas’s on his belly and leaned back into him, grinning up at the awkward angle for a quick kiss. All the while, Jane shook her head and watched in equal wonder.

“Well. I believe you two are the miracle. And I can’t wait to watch the wedding tonight.”   
“Neither can we.” Alex responded, “Although TJ here’s gonna make his vows three chronological series with several volumes each.” he looked over his shoulder again to receive a scowl.  
“Yeah, most of us’ll have starved to death by the time he’s done with half one, and obviously a dead priest and groom doesn’t make for a very good wedding. Average at best.” 

Jane was laughing hysterically with a hand to her mouth, her pearl earrings bouncing against the sides of her neck. She sighed highly and crossed her arms.   
“I wouldn’t worry. I think my brother’s in quite a rush to marry you judging by the content of his letters.”

Alexander raised both eyebrows and slowly looked up to Thomas, who was scowling over his head at Jane, “Do tell.”

Jane blatantly ignored Thomas in a playful way as she took a bit of hair and twirled it, stroking it at her shoulder, “Oh yes, yes. I ask about his new women’s suffrage movement or a Cabinet Meeting discussion, and he gives me a good three paragraphs on that followed by a solid nine on you.” She gave Thomas a sly little smile as she continued and he shook his head, jaw clenched, “It’s all, ‘my dearest Alexander learned how to jump a log today on his horse, isn’t that wonderful?’ and ‘my sweetest fiance breathed in my direction, and I nearly had an orgasm’.”

“Alright, alright, she’s obviously making this shit up, so let’s stuff it.” Thomas cut her off to both Alex and Jane’s incessant snickering. Alex sighed and leaned back into his beloved husband-to-be, twisting in his grip to face him. He pressed a kiss to his clothed shoulder, breathing in his scent for a moment before looking into his eyes.  
“Only one way to find out. Bring your letters when you visit again.”  
“Will do.”  
“Will not do anything of the sort, Janie.” he snarled at her, and she dipped her head to him. 

“Of course, your excellency.” she curtsied and while her head was down, gave Alexander her gaze and mouthed to him, “Will do.” with a tiny wink that Alexander returned over his shoulder. Their little circle of teasing was interrupted by the sound of footsteps in the parlor. They clunked to a halt.   
“Alexander.” 

The immigrant cringed, wincing up at Thomas who gave him a devilish smirk. 

“Karma.” he grumbled quietly, turning around so that Martha could see him fully. She leaned against the doorway, arms crossed and obviously not very happy.  
“Is this your wedding, Hamilton?” he frowned consideringly, bobbing his head from side to side a bit before giving a response.  
“You tell me, you’re the one moving in and taking over, your majesty.” 

“Exactly.” she raised her chin curtly in the air and stepped forth with her hands folded in front of her, she opened her mouth to scold Alexander some more while Thomas held back a blurt of laughter, but she caught sight of the guest in the doorway. Her terse face broke into a wide grin.

“Miss Jane.” she breathed, mood turning on a dime and trotted towards her with more purpose in her step. Jane let out a breath of excitement as she stepped forth too, not nearly as quickly in her awkward state of eight months of pregnancy that couldn’t be too comfortable. They embraced with a muffled exchange of words, and Alexander stole the moment to have a word with his President.   
“Thanks for the backup, darling.” he whispered through clenched teeth, and Thomas laughed a bit and tilted Alex’s chin up to gaze into his face with one finger. 

“You know if anyone else in the world spoke to you like that other than her and myself, I’d have their facial features rearranged.” 

“Mhm.”

“Don’t be a brat, you know how it goes. You’re my little prince. Everyone will treat you like one except for me.”

Alex gave him an obnoxious, childish look, and the taller man crossed his arms slowly. 

“I spoil you too much.” he rumbled blinking down on his fiance like he was already planning how to whip him up into shape that night. Quite literally. The man carefully slid his hand around to brush down the nape of Alexander’s neck beneath his long hair, petting him like a prized specimen. Alexander bit his lip with a little coy smile. 

“Sugar daddies always spoil their pets.” he shrugged with a glance up at his husband-to-be, who huffed a short laugh, peering down with those dark eyes.  
“Well. Your daddy is going to spoil and discipline you for the rest of your life, mon jouet.”   
“Vraiment?”  
“Oui, pour le reste de ta vie.”  
“Allez-vous aussi m'attacher pour le reste de ma vie?”  
“Des chaînes et des fouets pour l'éternité, mon amour.”  
  


They finished their dirty little French exchange with a few last sideways glances at each other, never really able to take their eyes away from one another too easily. Jane and Martha turned to look at them and speak.

“Well. Since Elizabeth and I carried all of your chairs to the buggy, you best start driving them down and setting them up.” she looked sternly from Thomas to Alexander and received a mocking look from the latter, but the former nodded. 

“Indeed. Alex--”  
“Hey.” Another voice sounded, cutting Thomas off. The little squad in the entrance hall turned around to face the North Passage entrance that Ruben was walking out of. He was tall, and his muscles could be seen through his white shirt, but his handsome cheek sported...

Alex turned his face up to Thomas with lips parted in wonder. The Virginian knew his fiance was looking at him, knowing what was up, but he ignored him. Ruben tossed back sleek blonde hair and smiled with dimples around the three red marks on his cheek--finger marks. From a slap.

Jane smiled, “Ruben, Randolph.”

The brunette boy followed, not sporting a slap mark, but he glanced warily at Thomas for a moment before winking at Alexander, who curtailed a snort. 

“Ladies.” Randolph addressed the room with wide arms, a showman as usual, “Good to see you all.”   
“Yes, after you disappeared like your future brother in law.” Martah gestured at Alexander and crossed her arms as if she’d never been in the company of such lazy bums in her entire life. Randolph placed a hand up on the shoulder of his boyfriend and leaned into him for a moment before sauntering forward. 

“Ah, relax.” he spoke charismatically with a twinkle in his dashing green eyes, “Benny and I are gonna go set up Alexander’s bridal tent, now aren’t we?” he flashed his boyfriend a radiant smile that was met with a loving smirk. Thomas was about to sneer something in his fiance’s defense, but a calming hand on his arm by Alexander cooled his temper. 

“Thanks, Randy. Load it onto the buggy and we’ll take you down, yeah?”  
“Capiche.” he responded with a shrug, still eyeing Alexander up and down like a meal despite his relationship status. Ruben didn’t seem to mind in the slightest, which Alexander wondered how was possible, but he didn’t question it. Not here in front of family. Instead, he clasped his hands with a little clap in front of him and glanced around the group. 

“Well. Jane, you know which room you’re taking?” 

“Yes. Martha and Eliza are going to help me get settled so I don’t break my back more than your baby is already doing.”   
Alexander laughed highly and gave her an apologetic look before following Thomas towards the parlor.

“We’ll be back.” 

“Damn right, you will.” Martha sniffed, giving both of them the evil eyes their whole way out.   
“Yeesh.” Alexander shuddered, “You married that woman?” he sidled up next to Thomas, who chuckled and cast him a glance, “She’s got a head on her shoulders, Alexander; she was just missing another essential body part.”

Alex bit his lip and bumped his shoulder into Thomas’s as they turned side by side, arching through the sun-dappled parlor where Mary was feeding grapes to the twins. Thomas tossed his head back and held the door for Alex to step out, boots clunking onto the porch. The day would have been hot had it not been raining for the three prior, and for that he was grateful. The worst thing is formalwear in the sun, even if the clearing was shaded; a cravat stuffed around one’s neck or a corset squeezing the waist like an iron fist was the grossest sensation one could dream of in the summer. 

Alexander took a deep breath, the sun warming his upturned face as he thunked down the steps into the damp, sun-baked grass. The smells engulfed him as Thomas stepped down to his side, and only when he looked over his shoulder did he remember. 

“Oh, Thomas.”  
“Yeah?” The man stepped up to his side as they continued to walk, stepping across the garden lawn. Thomas reached down and took his hand, and Alex interlaced his fingers innately, not even thinking about it. 

“Did you…” his lips tugged into a smirk, and he laughed just a little bit at the question he’d never thought he’d have to ask, “Did you slap Ruben?”  
Thomas was silent, but as Alex tipped his head up, he realized it was because the man was laughing to himself.   
“What?”  
“Yes, I slapped Ruben.”

“Thomas!” Alex tried to gasp, but he just scoffed a laugh, “Jesus Christ, what the fuck?”  
“Oh, shut it, Alexander, it wasn’t unprovoked.”  
“What’d he do?” Alexander was now intenselely curious as they stepped over a small, rain-soaked branch in their path and came up to the buggy. It was rather compact with large wheels for speed, and Tarquin was munching on the fat clovers, tail swishing lazily. Thomas let go of Alex’s hand to round the chair-stacked horse cart and step up to Tarquins side, rubbing a palm up and down his neck in long strokes. 

“He told me that what they were doing was their business, not mine.”   
“Ho-_lee_ shit.” Alex laughed highly, jaw open and eyes bulging. The smaller man hoisted himself up onto the bench on the front of the buggy, shaking the thing.

“And you didn’t murder his ass?”  
“Wanted to. Meanwhile, my brother’s scrambling to get his pants up and conveniently grabs the shelf.”  
Alexander rolled his head back in a silence cringe, “Fuck, the one that I broke last week and I fixed it minimally without telling you so that you would break it and think it was your fault?”  
Thomas paused, looking blankly up at his fiancé, “Wait, what?”

“Nothing, continue.” the boy took the reins.   
Thomas skeptically began scratching slowly behind Tarquin’s ears again, “Anyway…” he blinked away Alex’s little confession, “The shelf broke and everything went showering down. I made them clean up when Jane arrived.”

“Shit.” Alex breathed, shaking his head to himself as Thomas rounded to the side and hoisted himself up next to Alex. The larger man easily slid Alex down the bench with his body so that he was in the driver’s position, and at this point, Alex didn’t even protest. 

“Well,” the smaller started cheerily, “At least we have an interesting wedding story to tell.”  
“No the fuck we don’t.” Thomas growled, uncurling Alex’s fingers to take the reins from him and give him a sharp glance, “We’re not telling people about that. You want a crazy wedding story, we can just recap our relationship.” Alex laughed out loud.

“Ah yes, the Ol’ political-enemies-to-fuck buddies-to lovers.” the immigrant gave him a glowing smile, and purred when it made Thomas crack a stupid grin himself and try to look away to hide it. 

“My favorite story.” Alex sighed, leaning his head over on Thomas’s shoulder.  
“Mm.” The man grunted, squeezing the reins between his knees so that he could wrap his arm around Alex’s back and hold him at the hip, rubbing gently up and down. Alex scooted closer across the bench, pressing against Thomas. For a few moments of silence, they watched the forest’s edge across the garden, the leaves glittering as they turned upside down in the gentle breeze, exposing their lighter sides and flipping again. It was a nice summer sigh like a lullaby, contributed to by twittering and cicadas. 

“I can’t believe after all this, I’m marrying you.” he spoke in awe. Thomas turned his face down, but Alex was still staring off, “The world’s most conceited ass-hat, and I love you more than I can say to you.”  
“Well, despite your snide comment, I love you too.” he stroked his thumb on his hip.

“I love you more.” Alex finally turned his head up, resting his chin on Thomas’s shoulder. His brown eyes sparkled in the morning sun, his hair illuminated in the breeze as it tickled Thomas’s neck, “I genuinely do.” he spoke, not a hint of joke in his gaze, “There’s not enough capacity to love left on the fucking planet for you to love me as much as I love you, which kind of scares me.”  
The taller man smiled, unable to help it as he reached across his other hand to brush hair out of Alex’s eyes, “Well. I do.” Thomas spoke coolly, “And those are the words I’m saying tonight, so it’s up to you if you want to believe it.” he shrugged, bouncing Alex’s head the tiniest bit. The smaller man closed his eyes and sighed, breathing in Thomas’s scent that was so familiar to him. 

“I love you as much as you can possibly love me." he confirmed, "We’re even, alright?”  
The smaller settled his head nodding on his shoulder so that they were facing the forest once again. “Alright,” Alex responded simply. He believed him. 

* * *

“Big reveal, Alex, come on.” Hercules grinned, jeering with John and Lafayette inside the large tent. There was an area with two of the white chairs inside and a tiny table, that was all that could fit, and the other side of the tent was separated by a cut flap for privacy. John sat up on the table while the other two lounged on the chairs wearing the same black and white outfits with a lilac boutonniere and their best shoes. 

“Ay, fuck off, can a bro tie his cravat around here?” Alex’s call was muffled as he obviously struggled, and the guys chortled. 

“You tell us.” John laughed, and there was a vague grumble from behind the flap. The setting sun cast a golden light through the canvas of the tent, making it glow inside, but also a little warm--the body heat within didn’t help. Stepping out into the clearing, the fresh smell of the wind rising off the lake would be such a relief. 

“Almost done…” Alex mumbled, still shuffling around, and the other three settled back into conversation. John was Alexander’s best man, and he couldn’t have been happier. But what really meant the world to him wasn’t the title, it was the look on Alexander’s face when he had arrived at the Jefferson manor, dressed up and wedding ready. He had never in his life seen Alexander so _effortlessly_ blissful.

His whole life, the man had been on edge, uptight about his opposers and ready with a pen to refute them. He was always on the run, always on guard and offense simultaneously. But he was different now; he was changed. Thomas had changed him for the better, and by the little that John had seen of the Virginian, he believed he could say the same. It was destined to be, and it would. The legacy Alexander had been fighting for his whole life was one he never could have dreamed of.

The conversation of the trio halted when a hand cracked open the entrance to the tent from outside.   
“Who is it?” John called.  
“Washington.” the cool voice responded, “may I enter?”

“Oh, of course, come in, come in.” John hopped down off the table and jerked a hand curtly at Hercules to stand up and leave a place for Washington. The man rolled his eyes and raised to his feet.

The flap rustled as George strolled inside, the four of them not cramped in the space, but snug. He was in his best clothes as well, a cloth of deep green his color choice to represent the summertime. The man grinned with sparkling blue eyes, lifting his hat down from his head to grasp it at his front.   
“Gentlemen.” he dipped his head in greeting, and the three did the same with a chorus of, “your excellency.” 

The retired president looked up and around at the space. 

“I am here for the groom, who appears to have an entire side to himself.” There were chuckles from around the circle. 

“Oui, he is a tall man after all.”  
“Yeah, and I need new friends.”  
All four heads turned as the separation veil parted and Alexander emerged. Jaws dropped in the shocked silence as their eyes fell on the sight before them. The immigrant looked confused. 

“What?” he cocked his head. 

He looked... stunning. His brand new white coat, breeches, and cravat stood out against the black waistcoat, and the lilac flower at his breast only popped the look. His hair was as smooth as silk and weaved into the neatest braid down his shoulder, dark and beautiful and most importantly pulled back to reveal his glowing face. The group was moved to say the least, but John couldn’t handle it. He shook his head.

“Man…” he pursed his lips and stepped forward across the grass floor of the tent. One quick stride and he was upon Alexander. The groom hardly had time to prepare himself before John clapped his arms around him and pulled him into a crushing embrace. He grunted, wincing. 

“John. Buddy. Watch the hair, Thomas’ll kill me if I mess it up.”  
“I’m so proud of you.” he breathed as if Alex hadn’t even said a word, but the Treasurer couldn’t care in the slightest. His eyes widened, and he slowly closed his arms around his friend, holding him too. The man was not nearly as emote as Lafayette, and how he was breaking down in front of everyone, including his old war general and ex-president. He didn’t even seem to care.

“John…”  
“It’s good. I’m good.” he sniffed, backing up and patting Alexander's arms, straightening the groom’s jacket. Alexander could see that his eyes glistened with a sheen of tears though none fell. John pursed his lips in and bobbed his head, obviously trying to choke down a lump. Alex placed both hands on the shoulders of John’s jacket and looked point-blank into his eyes.

“Thank you.” he spoke, so serious that it was shocking. He shook his head, “You’ve shown me more than you could imagine. And I can’t thank you for that now, I have to go.” he smiled so hard it was painful, bittersweet, “But when I first told you about Thomas, you said three words to me. ‘Are you happy’. You didn’t even question me because you trust me. And I trust you.” he squeezed John’s shoulders and shook them the tiniest amount. The man’s chin quivered at Alex’s words. The groom tossed his head.

“Now get your ass to the altar and wait for me, cause I’m not marrying the love of my life up there without you.”

John nodded quickly, holding Alex’s elbows for just a moment before he broke off and stepped away.  
“I love you, bro.” he choked a bit, and Alex’s heart ached.

“I love you too.” he answered, chin high to hold back threatening tears as John stepped out, the flap falling pack into place. Alexander turned his gaze back to the other three.  
“I love all of you. So much. Thank you for being here today.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Hercules clapped him on the shoulder, and Lafayette was already tearing up. Alex laughed through his emotion, “Get out there, boys. I’ve got a president to marry.” Alex looked up to George, “not you, your excellency. Maybe next time.”

Everyone laughed at the comment as the boys filed out to find their seats among the seats of the buzzing Jefferson crew, Eliza and Martha, and James. In all, there were twenty-three people by the lake that day, and it was more than enough. George smiled down on him. 

“Seeing as I am a married man with a daughter and over ten years your senior, I will politely decline.” he rumbled, taking his place at the exit of the tent, facing out. Alex grinned because… this was it. This was the moment. Thinking back to his wedding with Eliza, he tried to remember how he had felt as he took his place at the altar that day at the Schuyler mansion. He loved Eliza, so much, but in a way that was not for married couples, which is why he remembered feeling so nervous and unsure. He stepped up to take his place at Washington’s right side and look up at him. He’d been through heaven and hell, raised by this man. Now was his time to ask him the question he’d wanted to ask before he gave him away.

“Your excellency,” he spoke, exhaling with a shake of his head, still grinning uncontrollably, “were you... uh, nervous on your wedding day?” he watched George’s lips fall into a soft smile, “I just hear of people being terrified to the point of passing out, but I think…” he shrugged, “I just don’t feel nervous.”

There wasn’t a moment’s pause before his response, “That’s because it is right, my son.”  
“Don’t call me son.” Alex spoke the well-weathered phrase with a smile, and George continued, as always, without acknowledgement, and began into his story.

“I was never married before James, but at his wedding, he was so terrified they had to delay it for him before he was ready to go through with it.” Georg peered down sideways at Alexander, “He had to reason himself into it. And that’s exactly how one should know that it’s wrong.”  
Alex’s brows flicked down in curiosity, hanging onto the wise man’s every word. 

“Alexander, today it should be a feeling. It should go without saying or thinking. When you think of your moment on the altar, you should think of one person and one person only.” The taller shrugged coolly, “if that man is Thomas. If you feel truly in the deepest reaches of your heart that it is Thomas, there is no questioning it.” he held up his hand, palm down with poise, “and naturally, you will not be nervous.”

“It is Thomas.” Alexander responded without even thinking, “It will always be Thomas.”  
Outside of the tent, a chord was struck on the cello, deep and resounding through the wooded clearing, over the lapping of the lake. The high note of a violin followed. George smiled, a true, wide, genuine smile. 

“I know it is.” he responded quietly, watching Alex lift his land to rest on the top of his own, so much smaller, but so steady. Betsey and Lucy began to play Canon in D major by Pachelbel softly yet so powerfully, a perfect violin-cello duet. Alex swallowed, giddy, bursting with excitement, flooding with love. 

“Is he ready?”  
George cracked open the flap with one finger to peek, and peered back at Alex, pride swelling in his chest, “He’s waiting for you, son.”

Alex was so moved by the words, he didn’t even correct him this time. George pinned back the canvas on the hook, revealing them both to the people who swiveled their heads in the chairs. And at the head of them all…

Thomas stood just as Alex did, white coat and breeches, black waistcoat. His ebony hair was combed with such dorky precision, neatly over his ears and slicked back, that Alex just wanted to squeal. His flower was tucked heatly at his breast, and his hands were linked behind his back, standing straight and poised as he did at a Cabinet meeting. But here…

The sunset glimmered blindingly on the water, golden and sparkling white, but Thomas’s unadulterated smile took the stage, it shook the skies, it left the very sun in jealousy, and it made Alexander soar. Rarely did he smile like that, with such unpent love in his eyes, and now he couldn’t stop himself. Behind the carved mahogany altar adorned with a bounty of lilacs stood Jane’s husband, the priest, ready to welcome him under the grand arbor arching overhead, laden heavily with hanging wisteria illuminated in the golden sunset. John stood to the left side, leaving Alexander’s spot open for the taking, and Randolph stood next to Thomas: his best man.

Betsey and Lucy played on, and Alexander took the first slow step in synchronization with George. Seeing Thomas up there… seeing the faces he was passing--Lafayette already with tears streaming down his face and clutching at Hercules’s sleeve, Martha and Eliza holding hands, Jane with her swollen belly, and Mrs. Jefferson clutching her handkerchief--all of it made Alexander need to run to Thomas. He couldn’t handle this pace; he couldn’t bear the distance--he wanted to run into his arms, goddamnit. But he held himself back, reminded himself to cherish the moment, to remember this. He looked around as George led him gradually closer to the beat of the strings echoing on the lapping surface of the lake. He looked around…

Slowly… slowly… after what felt like ten eternities, Alexander was standing before the altar. Softly, George let go of Alexander’s hand and gracefully stepped away to take his place beside James, Eleanor, and her biological mother, Dolly, but Alex hardly noticed. His senses were captivated by Thomas. 

“Hi…” he breathed, and Thomas placed a single finger over his grinning lips in a shushing motion. Alexander exhaled shakily, stepping across from him and taking his place under the arbor. He had done this what felt like hundreds of times alone with Thomas, but now it was real; it had never been so real. It was like being born again, like that arch was but a gateway to a new life, a fresh start with the man in front of him. Thomas extended his hands, and Alexander did the same, placing them in the large, warm palms whose thumbs rested over the back of his hands. Thomas brushed them back and forth, lightly stroking them as he tried to bite his lip and hide the smile, but he was done for. They were both done for. 

And yet after everything that had happened to them. Their first rainy night with each other on the porch, running wild out of restaurants and spending nights alone, sure that nobody else in the world had ever felt so alone. After the make ups and dangers, the triumphs… He gazed into Thomas’s ebony eyes, watching his own reflection as the priest began to speak. This was still only the beginning of something beautiful…

* * *

Aaron Burr moved slowly. He started small. 

He stood by and watched as he auctioned off his house, only keeping a few small belongings to himself. He resigned from his seat in the senate with a short speech and nothing more, getting his affairs in order and used his savings to purchase an elegant farmhouse in Upstate New York, a fixer-upper. It was quiet, and he found himself at ease in the company of the countryside. There was a wide porch that overlooked the fields, and he rather enjoyed settling in the single chair for long hours. Just himself and the land. 

And then there were two chairs.

He had taken up a pen. Wrote to Theodosia again. Apologised for pushing here away because only now did he realize how obsessed he had been with matters that didn’t concern himself, matters that were beyond himself. As he wrote to her... he understood how truly… small they felt now-- how very far away and insignificant. The suffering, the hate. It all felt so pointless when he read her familiar and missed curly handwriting in the candlelight. 

Two months and she returned to him for a visit, came upstate to see his new home. They went for long walks in the countryside, shared meals, just the two of them and a candle with the French doors drawn open as they slowly healed. Baby steps.

She never left. 

Sometimes when they sat on the porch together, just their pinkies overlapping between their hands, she looked at him. His hair rustled in the wind, his dark eyes focused. He was always looking off at some far off point, concentrating, contemplating something. She knew who he was thinking of, but she never pushed it. She let it be. Burr was a smart man, the smartest she knew, and when he wanted to find something, to understand something about the world or most importantly himself, he took his time. He needed time, and she gifted it to him as months passed. 

One day in August, he approached her with news of a day trip to the city, just to get some affairs in order. Anyone else would expect he was speaking of property deals or his resignation, but she knew far better, and she let it be.

She helped him pack and carried his one night’s luggage down the staircase in the front room. She made him a secret treat for the road, cinnamon scones that she hid without telling him with a sly little smile curled on her lips. Without so much as a word, he kissed her, long and gentle before he stepped out the door. She leaned in the frame and watched him mount his horse, dipping his hat onto his head. Her dress fluttered against the door in the slight breeze as he trotted down the path, dust clouding from the clopping hooves. All she could hope when she closed her eyes in the morning sun, letting it soak into her skin, was that after all of this time, all of the waiting… he had finally found the one thing he had been waiting for. Forgiveness. Closure.

Burr wound his way through the city, not stopping to eat or to rest on his journey. There was simply… an unknown force, one he did not understand, pulling him towards where he was heading like a tug right behind his ribs. He knew the way well, winding through the bustling summer streets, people chattering with life, yet he was silent. His world had been so quiet for months now, ever since that day at Weehawken. His life had once been a hurricane of noise, of disorder, and now his world simply radiated silence. Peace. 

Eventually he was out of the city and turned on wide, long lanes lined with sparsely spaced manors. He gave his steed a loose rein as he let her walk, hips shifting with her movement as he approached the end of the straight road. As he came up to the gates, a part of him wondered what on earth he thought he was doing. A tiny part of him whispered that he could just… turn around. Go back home and forget, but the rest of him was being towed along by the force inside of him, coaxing him towards this place.

He hadn’t planned out anything to say. He hadn’t written a note, announced his arrival with a letter, prepared an apology or explanation. One day he was just simply… ready. 

He dismounted and landed heavily on his feet with a huff and crunch of gravel. The gates were closed, signaling that no visitors were permitted to the manor on this day, but it was only a formality. His hands glided over the sun-warmed wrought iron to find that there was no lock, and he pushed it open with ease. It squealed and groaned, drifting ajar enough to let himself and his horse pass through, so he retook the reins and led her on the circular path before the manor on foot. 

It was a beautiful home, obviously designed with great taste and deliberation. But as he hitched up his ride on a spiked peg near the door for visitors, he realized that not a single window was drawn. His brows flicked down as he stepped closer to the house, boots crunching on gravel, gazing up as he took on the front three stairs to the landing. 

The windows were all free from curtains, and it seemed… empty within. There was no movement. No sound even coming from within the walls; there was just the rustling of old oak trees, the cry of a mourning dove in the distance. Despite the odd feeling in his gut, Burr tried the brass knocker, listening to the hollow sound echo through the house.

One minute. Two minutes; there was no response.

He stood blankly on the doorstep in disbelief. He looked around, over the front lawn and back up the walls of the house. He didn’t know what to do with himself if he had come all the way here for nothing. Would he ever be able to come back…?

He didn’t need to think about it, for his ears perked up; his head snapped to the side. A chorus of laughter, faroff and echoing rang through the quiet evening. Someone was out there. With one glance back at his horse, he knew what he was about to do, even if it felt wrong, ludicrous. He hopped down from the front landing and landed his feet on the grass to round behind the house. 

Burr felt our of this world, like he had been dropped into a dreamlike reality as he weaved around Thomas Jefferson’s garden. It was heavily laden with perfumed flowers, bees and other insects zipping from bed to bed. Horses winnied softly from the white stables to the right, but he continued on the path that led into the edge of a wooded area, following the sound.

This was trespassing, no doubt, and he had no intention on earth of breaking anyone’s privacy, but he had to do this. Something was pulling him, and he submitted with no choice left. He had come miles, ridden for hours for something bigger than himself. Closure.

The man loosened his cravat in the summer heat, feet thumping on the packed forest dirt of the trail, golden sunlight dappled and spotted through the thick, waxy leaves. Another round of laughter startled him, and he jumped. He was getting closer, and he began to walk faster on the trodden soil. 

There was a lake, he understood as a glittering through the tree trunks made him squint. Why… would people be out here in the woods, so far from the house? The trail continued past the body of water, but Burr squeamishly stepped into the foliage to get closer. The leaves crunched underfoot as he trudged, pushing aside thin branches and ducking to get closer. When he lifted his head, he could go no further. He stopped dead in his tracks and… squinted through the blinding light. 

Colors, most definitely not forest colors, dappled a clearing. His heartbeat accelerated, thumping in his chest as he moved closer and leaned up against a tree, eyes darting back and forth. There were chairs, white chairs set up around a path lined with purple flowers. People of all kinds dwelled in them, vibrant dresses and coats swishing in the slight breeze. None were facing him, and he couldn’t recognize any but the people beneath the arbor…

And he heard the voice. His eyes widened, and his heart dropped just… a bit in his chest, like the world had made him invisible just for this moment. Just to watch this moment.

Alexander Hamilton stood before a priest in his best clothes, holding both of Thomas Jefferson’s hands. He was speaking, gazing up into his eyes like… Burr swallowed, suddenly parched.

He was looking at him the way he looked at Theodosia. There was… no disparity. 

He understood what this was. 

Out of all of the days he had waited. All of the time it took for him to understand, to heal… he had come back on their wedding day. God worked in mysterious ways, he always knew, but this was only proof to him, and he could not comprehend why. Burr carefully, quietly reached up to his hat, numb, and lowered it down from his head in silent awe at the universe, and when he looked back up, Alexander had stopped speaking. 

Burr’s heart stopped. 

Alexander was looking at him. He was staring right at him, even beneath the shade of the woods. But there was no… hatred in his eyes as he swept Burr up and down. There was mild shock, a flash of worry, but Burr somehow managed the courage to shake his head a tiny degree, slow. He poured it out through his eyes, trying to get the message right through to Alexander’s head, make him read his mind.

He was just here to see. Just here to understand. And somehow, Alexander returned his eyes to Thomas and spoke, louder this time. His voice echoed on the lake. 

“And finally, Thomas, I have so much more I could promise to you, that I want to promise to you, but I would be at it til death do us part.” The pair broke into smiles. They were so genuine, so unashamed. Burr’s eyes darted back and forth between them, trying to understand their love, and he couldn’t find anything that he… didn’t understand. It was just… love. 

Alexander squeezed Thomas’s hands.  
“But before I marry you, I want to vow one last thing.” he returned his gaze to Thomas’s eyes, “I promise to always learn from you, Thomas. Every day, I grow just from being with you. Just from watching you, and we’ve had a hard road right from the beginning. Nothing was easy for us, no point in denying it.” the immigrant cast a glance over to Burr, who shuffled against the tree bark, “And you and I had our troubles, but the one thing you always taught me was that we deserved a second chance. We deserved that even when things seemed hopeless or ruined. You taught me that everything can be fixed. Looking at you now, I sure as hell know that we are proof.”

He looked over at Burr this time, his eyes stern and his chin tilted up. There was a pause before he spoke again, “We are proof that everyone deserves a second chance.” he breathed, quiet, but the stillness of the lake allowed the sound to pass across the clearing, through the trees, out to Burr and around him. It was inside of him. His face opened, his brows lifted up. Alexander nodded his head once. 

“Forgiveness isn’t easy.” he looked back to Thomas, “but you taught me that love makes it worth it. And I am going to love you for the rest of my life until I die, and God help whoever tries to get in our way again. We are bigger than the voices that roar against us. We will prove them wrong time and time again until they understand that heaven will fall before I let you go. I’m never going to let you go.” his voice wavered, and a sheen of liquid glistened in his eyes, brimming dangerously to spill as the emotion hit him and destroyed him all at once.

His lip quivered, and he shook his head, “I love you, Thomas.” His voice cracked at the end, and a tear pearled up and slipped down his face right into the flower at his breast pocket. 

Burr was too shocked to understand that his own eyes blurred, his own vision smeared. His chest was fluttering as something within him both broke and healed simultaneously. Alexander was speaking the words to both Thomas and to him. Forgiveness… he wanted to fall down to his knees.

The priest behind them smiled and looked tot Thomas, who was biting his bottom lip and staring at Alexander like it was the last time he would ever see him again, “Do you, Thomas Jefferson, take Alexander Hamilton to be your husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and cherish until death do you part?”

Thomas clenched his jaw, squeezing Alexander’s hands as he tried desperately to swallow the lump sitting in his throat. 

“I do.” he spoke, bursting out the words a bit on what was almost a sob. Alexander smiled, not another tear slipping down his face in this blissful moment that the world could never have predicted. The universe could never have guessed…

The priest dipped his head and turned his attention to Alexander, though his eyes were locked on Thomas’s.   
“And do you, Alexander Hamilton, take Thomas Jefferson to be your husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and cherish until death do you part?”

Alex nodded his head frantically, bobbing it as he took in a deep breath, “I do. I do.” he repeated, already drawing closer. Burr inhaled deeply, shakily as a tear streak split his face, pattering onto his hat that he held at his front. 

“Now, by the power vested in me by God, I now pronounce you husbands. You may now kiss the--”  
But Alexander couldn’t wait any longer. He had waited a long time. He had been waiting. He let out a purely euphoric laugh and jumped forward, wrapping his arms around Thomas’s neck and diving into a kiss that obviously surprised his new husband.

The guests let out a cherishing breath before someone whooped, sending the rest into a chorus of cheering, laughter, and a round of applause. For only twenty-three people, the noise was astronomical. It echoed off the lake, rang in the woodland. All of New York could hear the union, especially Burr. 

As Thomas leaned down and wrapped both arms around Alex’s waist and hoisted him up, Burr stood in the silence and watched. As he clutched at his white coat, grappling over and over as he kissed him, difficult for he was grinning too hard, Burr stood in the silence. In the quiet. Watching the love pouring from Alex’s eyes as he looked down into Thomas’s face and wept… he finally understood, clear in his mind.

Love… had nothing to do with where you came from. Love doesn’t care who you are, what your race or gender or any of it is...Love doesn’t care. Love doesn’t discriminate. Burr dipped his head, placing his hat back on. Only now, after coming here, after watching his lifelong enemy find the love of his life did he find the answer.

Love doesn’t care who you are. Because watching Thomas spin Alexander around, the guests screwing tradition and leaping from their seats to flood the newlywed couple, jumping and hugging them and sobbing, he understood that love does the same thing no matter who it touches; Alexander had shown him that now. It had taught Alex to forgive, to live and let live. It made him better; it made Burr better. 

The retired senator watched Alexander, an arm around Thomas, hug his new family, a family that _love_ had brought into his life. He dipped his head one last time to the immigrant, who caught his eye. Across the clearing, there was just… one last moment of eye contact between the two enemies.

And after so much hate… Alexander dipped his head in return. 

That was all he needed. That was all he had needed to see. 

Burr nodded to himself and turned away. He had a home waiting for him. A woman, a new life.

It was about time that he started it… 


	55. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 🚨WAIT🚨: it doesn't have to end here! If you want more Jamilton, I'm writing my second fic, 🚨 "The Hamilton Files" 🚨! If you're looking for LOTS more smut, love, and plot updated weekly, check it out if you'd like! I'd love nothing more than to continue my journey with you, readers! 
> 
> And finally, let me begin by saying that I have no words. I wish I could find a way to do this that doesn't sound cheesy, that doesn't sound eye-rolling, but I can't.  
This was my first work I've ever written. This journey has been one of experiment, one of many fails and many firsts. Through all of it, the sole thing that kept me always doing what I love--writing--was YOUR support. Was YOUR comments. I want each and every one of you to carry that with you. To know that someone took time out of their day to read what I had to say. Is. My. World.  
You are the reason that an author wrote. I wrote for you. And I will always do that; I'm not going anywhere. 
> 
> So finally, I hope you enjoy the last chapter of this journey, and I hope with all my heart that you will continue with me on another if you so please. Tears run down my face as I finish what I never wanted to come to an end, but know that I am always still here. I am always going to keep writing. For you. 
> 
> Thank you. All of you.  
Thank you for making every moment of this journey special. 
> 
> Now let's continue, shall we? 
> 
> Love, NightFall

Thomas stood from his seat, pushing it back with a smile down at Alexander. Their hands were laced together on the white cloth of the round table, and he didn't even think of letting go as he rose and lifted his knife to clink against his wine glass. The clear, ringing note sounded a few times over the pleasant evening buzz, the family and friends chatting amongst themselves, hushing to turn heads up to the newlyweds. 

The tables were arranged in the garden with no particular form except that they were only a few feet apart. Night had fallen by the end of the ceremony where the entire wedding party had made their way on the candlelit path back up to the house, Thomas and Alexander in the lead with no lack of whooping, cheering, and laughter on the way.

The pair hadn’t lost physical contact with each other since their first kiss as husbands. They held hands, they entwined their arms together, they scooted their chairs so impossibly close that they might as well have just shared. Everyone noticed their little exchanged looks. Their effortless conversation of anything ranging from bickering to serious contemplation. They were obsessed with each other; anyone could see it from miles away. The mutuality of their potent affection was spellbinding to all who laid eyes on them, enthralling. 

Now everyone dined together, chattering echoing all the way to the woods in the warm summer night, cicadas, tree frogs, and crickets buzzing along with them. The ground was lit by glowing candles among the flowers, and the glow came from the starry night sky with no moon, shedding silver starlight onto the reception that was far from traditional. 

Some sat at tables, some bobbed from table to table, making conversation in the candlelight, eating meals and snacks as they mingled. Alexander and Thomas never moved; people rather came to them to bring congratulations and share some words. Alex and Thomas hardly even had time to exchange words with one another, there was so much activity and liveliness! 

Betsey and Lucy didn’t tire of their violin and cello, with which they played festive waltzes and other spirited and jubilant foxtrots and minuets. Their stamina seemed to be endless, which not a soul minded as some stood to dance while others clapped along, laughing as they spectated. Randolph and Anna were in perfect synchronization, taking identical steps to go alone with their identical faces. John dramatically ballroom dancing with Hercules and Lafayette was a highlight. 

Not to mention Mrs. Jefferson--it was hard to believe, but it was true--had the moves of a twenty-year-old. She waved off  _ George Washington  _ with a playful, mischievous twinkle in her eye as she beckoned forth Martha as her chosen partner. This caused a chorus of laughter that didn’t stop for ten minutes as George leaned back in his seat, knuckles to his face and chuckled as all laughed at Mrs. Jefferson’s wit. James nudged him, to which he received a nudge back. 

One had to be careful, however, of the children underfoot as they danced and dined. The young ones seemed to be having the time of their life, the giggling and squealing ringing up into the night sky as they played some sort of chase game under and between the tables, occasionally some skirts. Lafayette had brought Henriette, who ran with William and Eleanor while the twins did their very best to crawl and stumble around (George ensured everyone that he was keeping a thorough eye on the rascals so nobody wandered off from the celebration). 

Jane with her swollen belly was a center of attention, naturally. When she moved slowly, hand on her huge belly, Alexander had leaned over to Thomas  _ several  _ times to giggle immaturely, “Hehe. I did that.” to which Thomas rolled his eyes or pulled him in for a less-than-gentle noogie. Immature little shit.

As the blissful night continued, Thomas became more and more desperate for a time to just talk to Alex. It felt like the entire day had revolved around both of them--so much that apart from their vows, they hadn’t had any alone time to just…  _ process _ . Hell, even at their vows they were being watched by several families. Thomas cast a glance down at his husband. His  _ husband.  _ Alexander looked so radiant and just  _ adorable  _ in his white wedding coat, especially with his typically troublesome hair combed back so utterly deliberately. He was such a dork, wanting to look perfect for the day, and Thomas adored it. All of it. 

At the same time, he was getting a little antsy to mess that hair up… and so he stood and called the attention of his guests with the fork on the glass. Alex glanced up at him with curious eyes, but Thomas lifted his chin to amplify his voice and cleared his throat. 

“If I could have everyone’s attention for just a moment.” he spoke, voice raised. The crowd quickly wrapped up conversations with a shuffle of rustling fabrics, head turning to smile up at Thomas Jefferson-Hamilton. The man adopted a serious, businesslike face.

“I call this Cabinet meeting to order.” The whole congregation burst out into laughter, even the children who had no clue what was going on. Thomas grinned mischievously down at Alexander, “Secretary Hamilton, you have the floor, sir.”    
Alex gave him a mocking stare and smiled right back up at him, “Secretary Jefferson-Hamilton to you.” The chorus of “aww”s was joined by Washington elegantly raising his collected voice over the crowd.   
“I thought you would have learned by now, Mr. President,  _ not  _ to give Secretary Hamilton the floor.” The laughter rang up into the night for a long time in which Alex leaned back into his seat, giving Washington a fake shocked look with parted lips in an “O” and raised brows as he crossed his arms. Washington only grinned widely, obviously enjoying the rare ability to bask in the eye of others with his own husband, who he had on his arm, showing him off like a blessed angel all night. 

Thomas waited for the giggles to finally settle down before he dipped his head and spoke again.    
“Trust me, I could make fun of this idiot I just married all night, I assure you.” he grinned, and the crowd grinned back, “but I think we’re all here for more than a comedy performance.” his lips twitched into a wider smile, casting a glance down at Alexander as he squeezed his hand. 

“Today has been…  _ the  _ greatest day of my life. As someone who had a presidential inauguration happen to him not too long ago, I’d say that says a hell of a lot about how much I love this man.” Mrs. Jefferson put a hand to her heart. Thomas nodded and looked back up to the guests. 

“I would like to share a moment and a few words with him in private while you all continue to dine.”   
There was a catcall and a whoop from a couple different male voices. 

“Ha! Words.” Someone snorted sarcastically, most likely Randolph, drawing laughs and a dirty look up from Alex. Thomas huffed a laugh too, knowing that no matter what he said, his intentions would still be transparent as fuck to the teenagers and bachelors in attendance. Thomas spoke again. 

“Ignoring that comment…” Thomas moved on with a sharp glance over to Randolph, who raised his glass to him, “If everyone would keep enjoying the lovely music. Betsey. Lucy.” he raised a glass to both of them, and they raised their violin and cello bows in salute, “And keep stuffing yourselves as well as Alexander has, because I can see there’s still plenty of food, wine, and champagne left despite the damage my husband has made to our stock.” Alexander shook his head. 

“Wow. Everyone’s so nice to me today.” he spoke to a burst of laughter that Thomas silenced, snickering at the comment too. The taller stood behind seated Alexander and rested his large hands over Alex’s slim shoulders, rubbing up and down warmly. Alex nearly purred at the touch, leaning his head back into Thomas to gaze up into his eyes. Thomas gazed right down lovingly, and Alex smiled, melting for him. God, he was drowning in love for his husband.

And hell yeah. He could tell he was about to get  _ nailed  _ like a piece of plywood. 

“Well,” Thomas sniffed, composing himself as the congregation settled down, “If we could have an hour, please continue to enjoy the festivities, and we will be back.” he spoke as Alex smirked knowingly to himself, standing from his seat. And sliding out from between the table.

“Get it T _ J _ .” Someone whooped; catcalls and whistling rang in the night from  _ everyone  _ led by Randolph and John Laurens. Of course, it was all playful and lighthearted as Alexander stood, and Thomas was about ready to snarl at anyone who made any sexual comments about  _ his  _ husband. He had plans for his newlywed spouse, indeed. But he caught Randolph’s eye through the crowd, the twinkle was more than promiscuous. The Virginian’s territorial instincts pricked up as he returned the glance and made his decision.

Thomas leaned down as they walked, face close to Alex’s ear so that his words were heard over the noise and reserved for him. 

“Get your ass in there and ready for me; I’ve got words for my brother.” he snarled the final word. Alexander snorted. 

“You two are so hot.” he burst a high laugh and immediately felt the grip tighten on his shoulders as Thomas pressed his lips against his ear this time.

“I think what you _meant_ to say was ‘of course sir. I don’t constantly fantasize of a threesome.’”    
“Oh, definitely not.” Alex was so unconvincing it was almost pathetic. They reached the edge of the house, and the smaller man turned around, walking backwards up to the porch as Thomas stopped, needing to part ways for a couple minutes. Neither of them wanted to be more than an inch apart from one another, but it had to be done.

“I mean…” Alex continued his previous thought at Thomas’s expectantly raised brow. The immigrant swallowed, backing up the steps, “Sometimes.” he admitted the obvious, and Thomas slowly… crossed his arms. Alex took the last step. 

“Okay, a lot.” he gave in, and Thomas dished him a  _ dark _ look. But his lips twitched into a barely-noticeable smirk, dirty intentions already playing in his mind. He was going to rearrange his guts, tie them into a bow, and shove them right back where they came from. Alexander wondered if admitting it would lessen the punishment or the opposite. Thomas rumbled, clearing his throat, confirming the latter. 

“I said get inside. You’re in trouble now, husband.” he spat warningly.   
“Thought so.” Alex shrugged indifferently, knowing he was only increasing the intensity of what he was about to receive. At this point, fuck it; it was already a lost cause on his part. Thomas twitched his raised brow.    
“I’ll deal with you after I’m done dealing with Randolph.” he finalized, sealing Alex’s fate. 

“Counting the seconds, my love.” Alex grinned radiantly, mocking, beautiful and he  _ knew  _ he was. Thomas only grunted and turned away with one last foreshadowing glance of wrath in his black eyes. 

The Virginian weaved through the tables, receiving some jubilant back pats on the way there until he came upon Randolph’s. His dark, long-haired brother was seated with Ruben on one side, Anna on the other, backs all facing Thomas. Convenient. Thomas cleared his throat and clapped his hand down on the back of Randolph’s neck with no warning or introduction, snagging the back of his coat collar. The kid jumped, trying to twist around along with his boyfriend and twin, but Thomas held him in an iron grip and lifted him from his seat as easily as he would Alexander. 

“Jesus, TJ, that you?” he half laughed half growled, pushing his chair back and stumbling a bit. Anna put a hand to her mouth and snorted, but Ruben seemed to clench his jaw, wiry muscle showing through his temple.    
“Yep. A word.”    
“I’m gonna pass if it’s like the ‘word’ you’re about to have with Alex.” he snickered, and Thomas shook his head, basically dragging his little brother away from the table. He flashed a tight smile to Anna and Ruben. 

“He’ll be back, but don’t hold your breath.” Anna was already losing her shit; she was rather used to seeing Thomas give Randolph a piece of his mind when they fought over boys. When Randy was still a top and Thomas still a playboy like him, it was an unspoken rule: Thomas’s boys were off-limits. Randolph’s were to share. 

“Still mad about Ruben?” Randolph grunted as Thomas dragged him out to the edge of the reception where they could still hear the lively music and laughter in the night, but it was darker out there, near the edge of the woods. The crickets and cicadas held their own symphony of nighttime sounds. Thomas stopped, tossing Randolph like a ragdoll to stumble in the grass, laughing. The kid had no sense of seriousness; everything held some degree of fun for him. Thomas snarled. 

“No. The catcalling my  _ husband  _ I could do without.” he bared his teeth. Randolph straightened his coat with a fuckboy smile on his face, shrugging and holding his hands up innocently. The green eyes met the black ones, both with their own twinkle within. 

“Easy, big boy.” he snickered, “I’ve got an eye for your little twink, but I’ve got Ruben until I can bed Alexander. I’m not in too much of a rush.”   
Thomas surged forward, lips screwed up in offense as he closed his hand around Randolph’s throat and shoved him with two lunging steps, pushing him up against the nearest thick oak tree. The eighteen-year-old’s back thumped gently into it; Thomas wasn’t about to genuinely fight on his wedding day, just roughhouse a little with his younger brother. 

The bark was still slightly damp from rain, but he couldn’t feel it through his coat. The long-haired Jefferson only laughed brightly. 

“TJ, you have no chill.” he dared to scoff highly, still smiling with his glittering teeth.    
“You won’t touch him unless I say so.” Thomas growled, pressing his hand harder against the soft throat, letting him feel the scrape of tree bark against the back of his head, “You won’t even come near him unless I say so. You know how this works.” 

“I do. Doesn’t mean it isn’t horribly unfair.” 

Thomas tilted his head, curling his lip as he stepped closer and towered over his little brother, letting him feel how much he wasn’t fucking around here. Alex was his unless he said otherwise. The same rules had been set in stone since the brothers went to France two years ago, but with Alexander, Thomas was leaving  _ no  _ wiggle room. He loved that man too goddamn much to let anything go on right under his nose without his permission. Thomas raised his chin.

“Well.” he spoke, voice seemingly cool, “Good thing I’m older, and I don’t give a damn about what you think is fair.”

“Eeeeasy, TJ.” Randolph spoke in his “always chilling and taking it easy” southern accent that he shared with his brother. Not the chilling part, however. Randolph reached forward to straighten Thomas’s coat on his shoulders, “Keep your shirt on. I’ll let you start your honeymoon early tonight without any interruptions, I promise. I’ll even keep the party going and make sure everyone has drinks for you.” he spoke as if it was the most courteous thing he could have said. Thomas’s lip twitched in annoyance, “in exchange for a detailed recount.”

Thomas scowled, “Semi-detailed.”    
“Fair.” 

Thomas stared at him for a few moments, squinting. He scanned over his brother’s face, trying to remember what he was going to say. Randolph waited, knowing that Thomas would wrestle him if he tried to shove him off. Nothing but Thomas’s lips moved for his next words.   
“So you’re a bottom now.” he stated blandly, so dry and flat it was hardly a question, “Guess that threesome Alex wants would never work without me fucking both of you, which is disgusting.”

“We’ve fucked the same dude plenty of times.”   
“No, you twat, I mean me fucking you. Incest. A big fucking no-no.” he spoke snappishly at his stupid brother treating him like a child so he could catch on. Randolph gave Thomas a dirty look.

“Well  _ obviously _ , dickbrain. Gross.” he made a face that Thomas reflected and just brushed off, wanting the thought out of his head. Ew. 

“Wait a second, Alex wanted a threesome?” he spoke all in one breath, an excited smile breaking onto his face. Thomas rolled his eyes at the delayed reaction; Randolph could not keep his dick in his pants nor his blood in his brain for more than two seconds.   
“We’re not talking about that now. I want to know when and  _ how _ you of all people became a bottom.” he drawled, looking him up and down, “That’s  _ almost  _ like me becoming a bottom, which I have never done once in my life.” 

Randolph squinted, pursing his lips and nodding slowly, “Yeahhh, that’s exactly what a bottom would say.”   
“Zip it, cockface.” Thomas pressed his throat harder, and Randolph laughed, knowing full well that Thomas would never bottom. Randolph raised his hands innocently, still grinning to himself.    
“My dear brother, does Ruben look like a bottom to your stupid ass?”   
“No.” Thomas gave him that, “you don’t either.”   
“So ta-da.” Randolph gestured grandly with open arms, giving a tiny bow, “And hence was born the ‘switch’ couple.” 

“AKA two tops thinking they’re the shit.”   
“That’s the idea.”    
“You’re despicable.”    
“I’m a Jefferson playboy.” Randolph smiled up at him unapologetically, slapping his hands down to pat Thomas’s shoulders in a brotherly manner, “being despicable is our sole duty, brother.” 

“Mhm.” Thomas grunted, staring at his kin. God, it was hard to have another brother to compete with, and as he stared at him for a few long moments, he wondered how families with several sons even coped. After a minute, he finally released Randolph’s throat from his large hand. He slowly retracted his arm to himself to straighten his cravat sophisticatedly. This was the part where they’d playfully wrestle like the brothers they were in the grass, but let alone the white jacket, Thomas had a husband to fuck. He could save the noogies and grass stains for later.

“You know that despite you being a conceited asshole of an ascended level, I love you, right?” Thomas sighed, a bit annoyed at his own words, but they were genuine, “You’re my best man, and I’m glad you’re here. Even if I kind of want to headlock you for being a salacious dick around  _ my  _ husband.”   
Randolph shrugged in a happy “whelp” manner and kept his arm around Thomas’s shoulders, smiling at him as the taller flopped his arm across his little bro’s shoulders too, shaking him up a bit roughly. 

“I love you too, bro.” Randolph sighed, “Good talk, good talk.” he patted him. Thomas snorted darkly. As they waded through the ankle-high grass, trudging their way back to the party. The kid would grow up as he had eventually, maybe in three years or so. Maybe never. Randolph turned his head to look up at his big brother. God, how he’d grown since he’d met that treasurer that he had despised. The younger smiled softly. 

“You really love him, don’t you?” Thomas peered down with a curious look at the change in tone, and Randolph blinked, “I can see it every time you look at him. I’ve known you for eighteen years and I’ve never seen it before.” Thomas rubbed up and down on Randy’s upper arm, stepping down the small slope. He took in a deep breath of night air, the air of his wedding night. 

“Yeah…” Thomas exhaled, releasing all of his emotion into that one word, “I really…  _ really  _ do, Randy.” he just let it all out, wishing there were better words to say it, “It’s more than love. It’s… I don’t know. He fills in every piece of me that was missing. Even that night at the Treasury when I refused to give him a second chance and fucked us up, he tried again. He’s just the one. I can’t say it any better; wish I could.” 

Randolph smiled and bumped into him, “Well. I’m happy for you. But you know, I’m happy for what you’ve done for all of us. I mean, Martha and Eliza never would have met if this hadn’t happened. Our family wouldn’t be this close, I wouldn’t have had the courage to actually date another male, Geroge Washington wouldn’t have been able to retire, and James Madison wouldn’t have lived much longer.” Randolph looked up at Thomas, love in his eyes, “Not to mention the friendship. I mean Laurens, Mulligan, Lafayette, Eliza. They’re your friends now. You learned that lower class doesn’t mean lower quality. You… gave Alexander a family tonight. I don’t know what I’m saying. It’s just a lot. I guess it shows that putting hate into the world only affects so many, but a single love works miracles for everyone.” 

Thomas was absolutely speechless. He wanted to stop, but they were already close to the dinner party, and it would have been odd. He parted his lips in utter awe.    
“Did you just… say something meaningful?”

“Come on.” Randolph laughed awkwardly, nudging Thomas again, “I have it in me. Makes it more special when it comes out.” he shrugged, trying to seem tough again, but Thomas squeezed him closer.    
“Thank you.” he rumbled deeply, genuinely, casting another glance down at his brother, “That means a lot to me. I’ll tell Alexander you said that; he’ll love it.”   
“Indeed, If he can hear you over the sounds of his own moaning.” 

“Aaaand he’s back.” Thomas teased, tossing Randolph near his table as the boy snickered, stumbling once and giving Thomas a middle finger. Anna and Ruben lifted their heads, Ruben’s ears perking in protectiveness. He was startlingly like the Virginian, and Thomas could feel his dominance clashing with the blonde’s. This was going to be an interesting relationship between the two of them, he could already tell. 

“Here’s your bottom--I mean boyfriend.” Thomas coughed quietly, passive-aggressive, “Have a good hour. Anna, be nice to the guests. No twin pranks.” he warned, backing up from the table. Anna shrugged with a sly grin, showing her single dimple.

“No promises.”   
“Your funeral.” Thomas turned back around, feeling drawn by a  _ potent  _ force now. Six minutes without his husband and he was already in desperation for his presence. 

“I need to go see my love before I lose my mind.” Thomas grumbled, pondering how he had become so attached to another living human being to get this way. Anna whistled suggestively, and their table laughed as Thomas rolled his eyes and trudged away through the grass, weaving between the tables on the most direct route to the house.

More people were dancing now--slow dancing to wind down the evening. James and George were basically one person as they held each other and just swayed. Martha and Eliza were a bundle of unbreakable love all the same. Thomas tapped on her shoulder as he walked by and leaned in to whisper. 

“Make sure everything goes smoothly for the hour; Randolph said he would but I don’t trust him to look after a houseplant.”   
Eliza looked up over Martha’s shoulders with her warm brown eyes, a bit sleepy from the lulling cello strumming deeply in the night.    
“We’ll take care of everything.” Eliza blinked, “enjoy yourself. We await your return.” 

“Thank you.” he dipped his head and set off, finally having everything in order. With Eliza and Martha in charge, this party wasn’t going anywhere while he was gone unless anyone wanted to risk a talking-to from Martha. At last, he could see Alexander’s face, his whole body aching for him. 

How cliche could he possibly sound? But when time passed without him, every second was a century, and he couldn’t physically get back to him quickly enough. As he stepped away from the dancing couples, he sped up, shoes crunching on the gravel of the garden path. He thunked up the wooden steps onto the porch and cast one last glance over his shoulder at his wedding guests, and it… still didn’t comprehend. One day, perhaps it would. 

Maybe what Randolph had said was right. 

His black eyes flickered back and forth over the party… the laughter, the dancing. Randolph feeding creme brulee to Ruben while Anna laughed, Martha, Elizabeth, James, and George slow dancing. Thomas bit his lip. 

If Alexander and him hadn’t fought… if Thomas hadn’t allied with Burr, he never would have known about George and James and brought them into their little family. If they never had gone through the pain of betrayal, of abandonment, Eliza and Martha never would have confronted them at that dinner one night and realized they had the right to have a relationship as well as the president and his treasurer. The bows of the violin and cello gently hummed across the strings, creating a clear, angelic sound over the warmth of the summer night, the earth still cooling from the day. 

Thomas cast a glance up to the stars, undaunted by the missing moon. The sprinkled lights were breathtaking, astonishing. And he realized that if the moon was out tonight--perfect, pristine, without flaw--they never would have been able to see the collection of dusted, ethereal stars. Messy, yes. Disorganized, yes. But the tapestry work of the universe was beautiful in its imperfection. 

There was beauty in the imperfection.    
Thomas inhaled and nodded only to himself. Everything had an implication bigger than himself when he only took the time to look for it. 

He placed his hand on the warm knob and pushed the door in, quietly stepping inside. It was time to take a deep breath and hold Alexander in his arms for the first time as his husband. His one, true husband for life. 

It was cooler within the house, and he removed his boots at the inside of the door to the parlor, noting with disdain that in his grassy trudge with Randolph he had gotten them muddy. Fucking fantastic. He grumbled, shrugging off his coat as he traveled through the empty entrance hall. His footsteps echoed on the hardwood and reminded him that he had the entire house to himself for the first time in days. All to himself…

And as he opened the door of his bedroom, he strolled in--at first thinking that Alex was in the bathroom. He lifted his hands to his cravat to untie it, raising his head up, but that was when he absolutely stopped dead in his tracks. His breath caught in his throat. He hardly had any room in his mind to think about trivial things like his boots being dirty as his eyes fell and locked on the sight before him… 

Thomas stepped fully inside and quietly clicked the door closed behind him. This was going to require a closed door...

Alexander lay completely bare on the bed, the only light was three candles on the alcove ledge, backlighting him and casting a warm glow over his deliciously smooth, creamy skin. His collarbones and hips were highlighted, the delicate curve of his ribs and the grace of his neck in the flickering, orange light. His warm, brown eyes reflected the firelight, laying on his side in the made sheets. 

Thomas felt his blood course faster through his veins; he darted the tip of his tongue over his lips, wetting them. Around his neck--the metal ring dangling--was his thick, leather collar, marking him officially as Thomas’s with the glinting plaque that read “JEFFERSON”. Thomas felt the familiar warm heaviness curl in the pit of his belly with arousal. After all this time, Alexander could do it just by laying there. He didn't have to do a thing. 

It was a different sort of arousal that wasn’t purely carnal. His body yearned for Alexander’s in that moment, yes, but more than anything his heart pined for his. Was he turned on by the mouth-watering sight his husband had laid out before him? Absolutely. But his very soul called out, parched, famished to be close to Alexander, inside of him. And oh, did he have plans for him. 

“Husband…” Alexander spoke dipping his head in respect to him. His dark braid snaked over his shoulder, glossy and smooth over the peaks of his collarbones. Thomas raised his chin, seeming to grow a bit taller in his place at the threshold 

“Husband.” he responded, “You look…” he inhaled deeply, chest expanding as he just slowly shook his head, “You are beautiful.”   
Alexander smiled, looking down bashfully so that the collar clinked a bit at this throat. Thomas’s dominant instincts began to perk up at the sound, stimulated and roused. The immigrant laughed.    
“How did the talk go with Randy?” he inquired, shuffling a bit on the bed, but not moving from his position. Not until Thomas told him to. The taller sniffed, reaching down to slowly unbutton his waistcoat, one by one as he spoke. 

“I had to use physical means to get him to listen up. Push him around a bit.” Thomas rumbled, purring at his newlywed husband. He looked back up at Alexander, darkness flickering in his black eyes with the angle. He let the waistcoat fall to the floor at his feet, Alexander swallowing. The smaller’s eyes darted to it and back up, hunger beginning to mount as he watched Thomas begin to work at his shirt now. 

“Told him to watch his mouth around you. Not to come near you.”   
“You’re a selfish, selfish man, Thomas Jefferson.” Alex chuckled, shaking his head as he knew Thomas would never change that part of himself. The dominant stiffened, stopping for a moment. Their eyes locked. 

“Yes I am.” he spoke, utterly quiet. There was a moment’s pause as Alex let it sink in. The immigrant blinked in shock.    
“And so he admits it.”   
“Indeed.” Thomas nodded, letting his shirt fall off his frame and spill to the floor over his waistcoat, abandoned. Alexander bit his lip at the sight he had seen a thousand times and would never get used to or tire of. The strapping body of his lover, symmetrical and smooth, muscular and powerful. He began to salivate, knowing precisely what he wanted to do first, but he swallowed it. Obedience had always been an issue for him; both of them knew that by heart. 

Thomas’s long fingers undid the button of his pants, popping it out as he took one slow, sauntering step forward. Just as Alexander was reviewing his body, Thomas was mapping out his submissive’s. God, the gorgeous curve from ribcage to hips, the shapely arch of his ass and smooth, long legs in proportion… the way his belly rose and fell a little quicker in synch with how close he drew…

“I am selfish. Selfish for you, Alexander.” he rumbled, deep voice and accent getting Alexander off like it was  _ nothing _ . He parted his lips, lifting a hand to brush over them with his fingertips. Thomas huffed a laugh through his nose at the sight of Alex doing that just to show off his wedding ring. 

“That’s right.” Thomas praised, approving, “that ring means you’re mine. And I’ll have your ass if any other man so much as  _ breathes  _ in your direction without my consent; you know that, right?” 

Thomas stepped out of his pants, abandoning them with zero need on the floor. The smaller tried to keep his eyes up as he knew to do, but failed dramatically. Thomas’s cock was already as solid and hard as his had been from opening himself up before his husband had come in--as he had requested. Fuck, he could take it right now. His mouth continued to salivate madly as Thomas stopped at the side of the bed. 

“I mean, is that a threat or an invitation, sir?” Alex twitched a brow provocatively. Thomas just stared at him, silent as he lifted his hands up to place them on the top of the alcove bed above his head, showing off his abs and pecs to Alexander. The immigrant swallowed as Thomas exhaled, just gazing down on him and bobbing his head. 

“Considering that I just walked out of our wedding party for an hour to fuck you senseless, I’d say that’s an invitation.” 

He placed his knee up on the bed, and Alexander understood that he should sit up--but slowly. Sudden movements were not advisable with a dom who had no reserves against lashing out for a smack or a pin-down, so he gradually placed his hands on the soft mattress and propped himself up, sitting back on his heels as Thomas climbed into bed. Alexander wanted nothing but to climb on top of him as he settled down against the headboard, leaned up against the pillows with his muscular legs out, but he knew better. He bit his tongue and dipped his head. 

“Aww.” Thomas pouted, tilting his head to look at Alexander, “Baby, though I am astonishingly pleased with your self control,” he praised with a twinkle in his eyes and watched Alexander immediately smile--trained to react to praise with such utter happiness, “I want you to come here.” 

“Really?” he lifted his head, surprised. Thomas nodded, a light smile on his lips as he opened his arms.    
“Really.” he grumbled, unable to hold back a smile at Alexander’s excited little grin, “As much as I’d love to whip you, tonight's our night for love, _mon amour_.” he purred. 

“Come on, you sap, you know I love a good whipping.” Alex smiled down at Thomas’s face as he settled into the man’s lap, their skin pressing warmly together.   
“Mmm.” Thomas hummed, wrapping his arms around Alexander’s waist as the smaller folded his around Thomas’s neck and shoulders, pressing their bodies, skin-on-skin, impossibly close together, bare and vulnerable. Alex hooked his heels together behind Thomas’s back, sealing them.

Thomas exhaled deeply, closing his eyes as he dipped down his head, nudging his face into Alexander’s neck. The treasurer sighed in relief at the soft feeling of lips on his jawline, planting a deep kiss to it. 

“I know you do. My little pain-slut…” Thomas mumbled between kisses, breathing against Alexander’s neck as he worked his way slowly down his throat all the way to his smooth shoulder, “But you don’t hate vanilla sex, baby.” he rumbled, biting his delicate collarbone to punctuate his point. Alexander gasped.    
“You hate sex without passion.” Alex let that sink in as Thomas kept kissing him, gliding his hands up and down the curves of his waist and back as he leaned forward. 

“Is that so?”   
“It is. And I’ll prove it.” Thomas breathed holding Alexander’s back gently in his hands as if he could break him as he lowered him down to the bed, seamlessly following so that he was on top. He lowered down so that he was on his elbows, one on either side of Alex’s head, their entire bodies fit together as they should be. For a few moments, they just gazed in one another’s eyes, taking it in. This had… really just happened. After all they had been through together in the past year. This had happened. They were married with a family on the way. 

Alexander slid his hands down to rest on Thomas’s shoulders, and Thomas smiled, lifting one hand to cup Alex’s cheek.    
“I love you, Thomas.” Alex whispered, quiet enough for it to be heard in the summer night’s silence, “Look at where we are...” 

“Well, look at where we started. We made it.” Thomas stroked a thumb over his pretty lips, already wet from the immigrant licking them in anticipation. Alex parted them for Thomas to brush over with the pad of his thumb, just tracing and outlining them. Thomas tilted his head, gazing down onto the beautiful face that was now all his. All for him… 

“I love you too. More than you’ll ever understand.”   
“Mm.” Alex hummed, closing his eyes, “Try me…” he breathed, barely audible as Thomas closed his eyes and followed suit, dipping his head down. Their lips met with open mouths, opening wider and closing on one another, electricity surging through their connected bodies. Immediately, Alexander inhaled, pulling his hands from Thomas’s shoulders and placing them up beside his head, tapping Thomas’s hands so he knew he wanted to hold them. 

The virginian took his time, lapping his hot tongue slowly into Alex’s mouth, licking over Alexander’s tongue as their mouths opened and closed in slow heat. Thomas laced his fingers through Alexander’s littler ones, pressing their palms to the mattress beside his husband’s head. Their wedding rings clinked together, touching as they kissed, feeling it, feeling all of it. 

This was their wedding night that nobody was going to ruin. Not their opposers, not Burr. It was just for them. For once in their lives, it was all about them.

Thomas continued to rhythmically lap at Alex’s mouth as he let go of his right hand, ghosting it over Alexander’s ribs and waist, rubbing gently across his upper thigh before dipping between them. Alex gasped, but Thomas only pressed his mouth to Alex’s harder, sideways as his head was pushed down into the bed. His fingers worked their way around to his entrance, taking their sweet time on his inner thighs before settling. As soon as he felt it, Alex twitched, pulling their lips apart. 

“Please…” he spoke instinctively.   
“Shh…” Thomas shushed him, moving on top of him, bellies pressed together to kiss his forehead. As Thomas closed his eyes once more, passion coursing through his veins, he pressed his middle and fourth finger inside of him down to the second knuckle, just enough to find his sweet spot and not overwhelm him. Alex’s legs jerked a tiny little twitch to signal that Thomas had--of course--hit it fist try. But Thomas was still in the mood to talk to him.

“I love you, baby. I’m going to be by your side for the rest of my life…” he whispered, “I’m always going to make you feel this good…I’ll take care of you…” Thomas curled the first knuckle in a beckoning motion, rubbing up and down over his prostate deliciously. Alex stifled a whimper, choking as he jumped his legs up to wrap around Thomas’s back, hooking his heels together. Thomas exhaled, going back in to kiss him deeply.

“I know you’re vocal. Let it out, baby, we have the whole house to hear your pleasure. Go ahead.”   
“Fucking God…” Alex’s sigh was basically a frustrated groan as if he had been holding his breath, choked and could finally make a sound. 

“That’s it…” Thomas praised, pumping his fingers in and out of Alexander a bit quicker, noting that his husband had done an acceptable job of stretching himself out on his own, but still needed extra care. Consequently, he took the chance to just hold him, kiss him as he dexterously stimulated and pleasured his sweet spot. He was in the mood for savoring these moments, taking it slow even if Alex was keening for the full thing. 

“I love you…  _ fuck  _ you’re so good.” Alex huffed, beginning to breathe a little harder. Thomas listened to the dirty sounds as he added another finger and kept up the pace, stretching Alex open. He usually required a little extra, being as oddly tight as he was.   
“I know I am.” Thomas teased lightly, dipping down to bite his shoulder. 

Alex rolled his eyes fondly, “Asshole.”   
“Hey...” Thomas warned darkly, lifting his head to look down directly into Alexander’s eyes. He shook his head.

“Just cause I’m being nice to you doesn’t mean you can speak to me like that.” he spoke firmly, pressing down  _ hard  _ on his prostate with a good deal of pressure and holding it there for a few moments. Alexander squeaked, squeezing his eyes shut and grimacing with bared teeth. Thomas tilted his head.

“So watch it. I don’t want to have to be the bad guy on our wedding night.” he warned with utmost seriousness.    
“Fuck you, Thomas.”   
“One more try.” His voice was brimming with warning as he pressed a little harder, staring down directly into Alexander’s warm, brown eyes. Alex hissed in breaths through clenched teeth and squirmed on Thomas’s fingers, trying desperately to push him  _ away  _ from the sensitive spot, but Thomas had him at his disposal. Finally, he gave in.

“I’m sorry. I’ll be good--I’m sorry.” he panted raggedly, and Thomas kindly released the pressure to just rub gently over the spot as if to console it, sliding his fingers in and out again at a calm pace. 

“There…” Thomas exhaled as Alexander sighed a deep groan, and all his muscles relaxed again. He eased into the bed as his head fell back into the sheets; his pretty little chest rose and fell evenly now, eyes falling shut.

“Good little husband.” Thomas mumbled at the sight, moving down to tenderly kiss the middle of his chest; it was warm with body heat, and Alex wiggled a bit on the bed.

“Say it again.” Alex breathed, panting a bit now. Thomas stroked his sweet spot and moved his head down to press a kiss to Alexander’s ear.    
“My husband...” Thomas spoke, lips on his ear as he formed the words, and Alexander shuddered beneath him at the tickle.   
“I have to be dreaming…” 

“Nope.” Thomas smiled, kissing him again before pulling his fingers out and kissing the tip of Alexander’s nose as softly as if he was a delicate flower, “All real. We’re married.” he whispered, unable to hold back his unadulterated grin as he swung his leg off of Alexander. The smaller lowered his legs to the bed in a bent position, and watched Thomas sit up. For a moment, Alex blinked, confused. He lifted his head from the bed, his braid dragging on the mattress.

“Going somewhere?” 

Thomas sat back on his heels, and the warm candlelight flickered over the sculpted abs and  _ fuck _ , that V-line. The taller man ran a hand through his ebony locks, tossing his head back. Alex could barely see his face, but he could see those dark brows.

“You didn’t think I was going to fuck you missionary, did you?” he laughed a little bit, running his hand down the back of his neck like a proud lion. Alex fluttered his knees slowly a bit in bashfulness, still feeling a little too empty and deprived.

“I thought you were going full vanilla.”   
“Never.” 

Thomas leaned over, placing his elbow down on the bed and lowering himself to his side.    
“Let me promise you one thing, Alexander, and let’s get this straight now.” he dictated, opening his arms and gesturing with his fingers that Alex should follow him. The smaller man’s heart leapt in his chest with excitement as he jumped into action, rolling to his hands and knees and crawling across the sheets. Thomas kept a straight face.

“That whole cliche that sex goes downhill immediately after marriage is going to be illegal and prohibited in this household.”   
“Illegal?” Alex echoed with a little, smug grin, lowering onto his shoulder with his back facing Thomas. The larger man wrapped his arms around Alex’s ribcage, dragging him right up against his body, his own back pressed against the wall of the alcove bed. 

They both lay on their sides now, parallel. For effect, Thomas pressed his member up against Alex’s ass, letting him feel the size in his crack as he spoke.

“If you think anything’s getting ‘boring’ from here on, you’re sorely mistaken.”   
“Well. I _am_ used to being sore.”   
“And you’ll continue to be. And when our baby girl comes around, and you think you can act up and be smart with me, I’ll carefully carry her to the covered, shady porch with the baby playpen fence, lay down some blankets and toys so she’s comfortable and safe…” he purred, brushing Alex’s braid over his smooth shoulder, “and I’ll come back inside and beat the daylights out of you before fucking your throat with unmentionable brutality.” he cooed tenderly, kissing him yet again.

Alex hummed with pleasure, tucking his butt up against Thomas’s warmth, “You’re going to be a good daddy for both of us.”   
“And you love me.”   
“Yeahh.” Alex sighed, “Full disclosure, if you think marriage is gonna tame my bad attitude, I really don’t think so.”

“I don’t think so either. Up.” Thomas shifted his bottom leg under Alexander's, much larger and more powerful. Alex let him dig under it, and the man pressed that same heel up against the wall. Leverage, Alex realized. His lips curled into a smirk. 

Thomas inhaled deeply, getting himself ready as he lifted his top hand--his left--and ran it down Alexander’s body, starting at the top of his shoulder and sweeping down slowly, feeling the curves of his warm skin beneath it. 

Suddenly, the Virginian was washed over by another wave of realization. Of just how… hard he had fallen in love with Alexander Hamilton. That his was happening. The man he despised as an enemy only one year ago to date was his husband now. After all of the shit, the tears, they had made their hate into something beautiful, vulnerable. Thomas was scared to death, not of his own feelings, but of ever losing Alexander. He had trouble admitting it, even to himself, but he depended on him. He'd never been dependent in his life. and it was scary.

But he had already vowed to him, sworn to him over and over again that he would protect him until the day they died, and that was a two-way road.    
That would be a long, long time away. For now and forever, Alexander belonged to him. His mind, body, and soul were in love with all of Thomas’s. And God… his body...   
“You’re so beautiful…”

Thomas breathed quietly in utter awe of his husband, the flood of passion still washing over him. He stared at his own hand as he stroked over his ribs, dipping into the curve of his waist, and Alexander shivered. Thomas smiled at the reaction and felt up to the curve of his hips, his shapely, smooth ass. 

Alex was clearly in the zone, eyes closed, nodding with every movement. He was savoring, relishing every touch like it would be his last, and Thomas wanted to suspend that feeling for him--let him drift. The Virginian spat into his own hand; Alex would get a day’s break from being the lube provider. 

Thomas reached down into the overheated space between them and found his cock pressed against Alex’s cheek. He took it in hand, curled his fingers around, and gave it two long strokes, rolling over the head with the palm to slick it up. Finally, the stimulation he had been waiting for was heavenly, almost burning. He bit his lip, closing the distance between himself and Alexander to press the tip up against his entrance. He held it there with one hand and lifted his head to peer down on Alex. 

“Keep your eyes closed, honey. Just feel me.” he rumbled and curled his other arm around Alexander’s front to cup his throat from behind, using the leather collar as grip. The jangling of the hanging ring made Alex whimper, and Thomas shushed him, holding him firmly but carefully in his hand. 

Slowly, Thomas pushed himself in, surprised by the tightness as always, and kept his hand on his length as he entered. Alex tried to let his head fall down and bite the sheets, but Thomas’s hand kept his head pressed against the Virginian’s chest. The smaller whimpered a tiny, choked sound, grasping aimlessly around for something to grab, and settled on clawing the sheets into a fist with both hands, squeezing his eyes shut and clenching his teeth. 

“Let it out, baby. You can talk to me.”   
“Ohh…” Alexander moaned like he had been holding his breath, letting it burst out of him. Thomas let go with his hand to push in slowly, inch by inch on his own, “ _ Uh! _ ” Alex cried out, sharper this time, and he let go his fist twisting the sheets to clap back behind him on Thomas’s upper thigh, holding hard and digging his nails in. 

“Breathe.” Thomas commanded quietly, holding his throat up to press a kiss to it as he bottomed out, fully inside of Alexander. In that moment, they were one person, one entity of unbreakable love. 

“Hmm…” Alex whimpered pitifully, shuddering a breath, “I love you…” he whispered shakily, relaxing against Thomas, letting the tension begin to seep away now that he was inside. And Thomas had him. He knew Thomas had him. 

“I love you too. I’ve got you…” And Alexander knew that Thomas meant more than just in that moment as he began to rock his hips gently, starting slowly to ease Alex into it. As Thomas ran his hand down Alexander’s cheek and down his thigh, slipping between them to lift up the smaller’s leg, bending it and holding it in the crook of his elbow, Alex knew he meant more than that moment. 

The Virginian kissed Alexander’s upturned face, holding his leg and his neck gently as he rolled his hips, waves of pleasure washing over both of them. 

Thomas had him. They had each other. 

Forever. 

* * *

EPILOGUE

A month after their wedding day, Thomas and Alexander’s inexplicable hunch was proven true... 

On a rainy morning ten minutes before sunrise, Jane gave birth to a healthy baby girl, two weeks sooner than expected. Now--four years later--her dads often joked that she was so impatient to come out and see the world, she just took the reins herself and made the decision. She asked to hear the story over and over again, but they would always tell it the same way:

Thomas and Alexander were both there through the night, either in the room or pacing outside. The midwife was very strict about every condition being perfect, so if one of them started to get stressed, she’d usher them out of the room tersely like a fussing mother until they were ready to come back in. However, the stress wasn’t the biggest problem; they both knew that Jane was an incredibly strong, woman--a badass actually. The real distractor was all of the excitement. Thomas and Alexander grew increasingly and increasingly anxious to meet her, meet  _ their  _ daughter for the first… time. And when the midwife finally held her up and declared that she was a girl, that was when the tears began to flow down the faces. 

They both knew that Rachel was her name. It was a given; it was meant to be. She didn’t belong to the name, the name belonged to  _ her _ \--he name of Alexander’s mother.

Powerful, unsubmitting, resilient through any struggle. Noncomforming, just as Alexander’s mother had always been for all her life.

It was physically difficult to wait for her to be cleaned before she was gently, carefully settled down into Alexander’s arms--the shorter man so that they both could see her clearly. Jane had spent months preparing herself for the process that was surrogacy, and knew that this moment was for the pair. So she rested, and watched the moment taking place at the side of her bed with a soft grin on her face.

In the light of the rising sun just peaking over the horizon through the open doors, they saw her face for the first time. And neither was ever going to be the same.

She was Alexander. 

His nose, his cheekbones, chin, forehead, his characteristically curly lips--Rachel had his entire face shape, and it was already clear even as a newborn baby. But… when she opened her eyes, Alexander fell apart. He fell apart. 

Thomas’s eyes.

The shape, the raven black color, deep as the night sky… she had Thomas’s eyes. From that very first moment, they knew. The intelligence in those eyes, the challenging curiosity as if she were already prepared to take on the world and question everything that was in place. They were deeper than the night; they were the power of a stormy ocean, the furthest reaches of an unexplored cave. She blinked, and Alex knew he would make the world right for her… always. 

Thomas knew it too as he stood pressed behind Alexander and placed a large hand on top of her tiny head--which was already full of deep black hair, smooth as silk, her skin the tanner complexion that Thomas possessed--and wept, holding Alexander, holding his hand on her head and watching her gaze up at both of them. There was always a worry with surrogacy that there wouldn’t be a bond. It was immediate. It was innate. All of a sudden, neither man knew that they had been missing Rachel their entire lives until this moment. It would never be the same. 

She was four years old now, and not a day had passed where they ever thought about a world without her. 

Thomas was the first to speak to her on that cool Autumn morning, the waft of the rainy world outside drifting inside the warm firelit room, glowing a bit with the sunrise. 

“Hello Rey-Rey.” his deep voice wavered through the tears. He swallowed an impossible lump in his throat, “We’ve been waiting for you.”

Alex hiccuped a laugh, sobbing as he smiled and nodded, “A long time. You’re so beautiful… and strong… Look at you.” he whispered, bringing her close to his chest to press her forehead against his own.

They talked to her throughout the entire day, unable to take their eyes off of her and each other, and when she slept, they watched her in the silence as she lay on one of their bare chests, swathed in blankets as they held hands. The trio, from that very first moment, was unbreakable. A bond that would last until the end of time. Thomas, Alexander, and their little girl--blinking with those intelligent eyes, moving in those squirmy, jerky moments. Her little back rising and falling as she slept… How could they have lived without her? 

And every day following was like a new story, a new adventure. They saw their busy lives through the lens of a child once again; every day was something new, something fascinating and wondrous. With the hustle and bustle of a changing world around them, a presidency and Alexander as the nation’s newest Vice President, a rapidly changing world, Rachel was the anchor. When they were exhausted, she was the little light that invigorated them, lit up their worlds with every little thing she did. 

She took her first steps in the parlor on the afternoon of her first birthday, walking from Thomas’s to Alexander’s arms before they scooped her up and spun her around, jumping and whooping with hysterical glee, listening to that squeaky little laugh. She didn’t know what was going on, she just knew that her dads were happy, so she was happy too. 

Her first word was when she was being put down for a bath in the tub, and said “daddy”. They would joke about it to this day, how they had bickered over who she was addressing when she’d said it--even asked her--but she just giggled because she had no clue.

Later they would then come to find that she had developed Thomas’s southern accent, but softened by Alexander’s Northern one. When she talked with the little twang, it made both their hearts  _ soar _ .

Her baby milestones were all early, but ever more striking each day was the development of her personality: a beautiful and chaotic blend of Thomas and Alexander. The best blend there could be, yet troublesome.

She had Alexander’s cheek, that was for  _ sure _ . She was sassy and witty at age four when most kids didn’t even have wit. Copying Alexander’s bratty attitude was a playful characteristic though: it never became a genuine issue as much as a fun and sometimes irritating personality trait to be scolded--as it was with Alexander himself. She copied his habits, crafty little ways to get out of doing things and picked up some of his catchphrases early on like “bite me”, which Thomas was  _ not  _ too happy to hear for the first time when he had told her to carry her plate back to the kitchen last January.

(“... _ pardon  _ me, young lady?”)

Like Alexander--the writer-- her imagination was astonishing, but her enthusiasm is what brought Thomas and Alexander into it. In their little wooden raft Thomas had hammered together, they could hop in and splash around in the water to play pirates on the lake for hours without there being a plot-lull. Their library could be a princess’s castle or the woods an enchanted forest, the stables a stronghold for the American war soldiers or the garden the Palace of Versailles. With Rachel, anything was plausible, no matter how fantastic.

In addition to the cheeky wittiness and imagination of Alexander, she quickly adopted Thomas’s traits as well. She was firm and always the kid in charge when she was playing with her pals, even in charge over eight-year-old William, who was embarrassed to be bossed around by a four-year-old when they played in the treehouse. On some occasions, like Thomas, she was too authoritative. Thomas had to scold her more than once for bopping William on the head when he called her stupid and roughhousing with other kids. 

Despite her firmness… she also brought out the extraordinary....

She saw and reflected the soft side of Thomas, one that few ever saw but always loved. It was a rare thing, that side of Thomas, and Rachel picked it up like she picked up stones on the garden path that she thought were sad because they were alone, and carried them all the way down to the lake, one hand full of rocks, the other curled around Thomas’s. 

She had an affinity towards animals  _ just  _ like Thomas did from day one, where she would gaze at birds from her crib for hours, her wide, ebony eyes darting back and forth. As soon as she started crawling, Lexi was never safe from being hugged. The smallest creature--even cockroaches and other insects---were fascinating to her. Her dads would watch with silent awe in their eyes at how genuinely…  _ gentle  _ she was with a praying mantis she had found. It seemed impossible. When they were camping, a baby doe had come up to her--all by herself--and eaten a bread crust right out of her little palm. It was Thomas’s side that let her do that. Thomas.

Like both her parents, she was a bit of a rebel. Now by age four, she had established that corsets weren’t for her, not in the slightest. She liked her dresses short so that she could move and wade through the grass of the garden or through the creek, hopping on the stones with Alexander’s agility that boys twice her age didn’t have. She loved her hair long and unkept like Alex’s, but it was pitch black with Thomas’s waviness and sheen. There was no doubt that she had his hair, and it was beautiful when it was illuminated in the evening sunlight, flyaways and all in a tight braid running down her back that she always requested Thomas do for her each morning. With each passing day, her eyes only seemed to darken to the color of a raven’s wing, her features developing more and more to look like her fathers’: deep black brows  _ but  _ with Alexander’s curvy form, and Alex’s face shape.

Being parents had brought out the unique sides of Thomas and Alexander as well--what they looked like as fathers. Unsurprisingly, Thomas was the far more careful one, while Alex was more reckless. For Thomas, it was more like raising two kids instead of one, damnit! 

Those two would sneak food around for each other and demolish cookies together in the pantry like it was nothing--partners in crime. Whereas Thomas provided the authority they both needed, the person to lean on and depend on--to go to with cuts and bruises and tears-- Alex showed Rachel the independent side. As she learned how to swim this year, Alexander went to the shallow end and simply let her go, let her find her own way when she was ready.

Their similarity as parents was their unending enthusiasm with her activities and passions. It was hilarious to see them genuinely arguing over who got to be the British and who got to be the Americans while Rachel just stood there with her fake wooden sword Thomas had carved for her and a scowl, tapping her little foot. 

If she wanted to garden with her dads, everyone was more than happy to take a break, drop everything on their hands and change into their old shirts and pants, kneeling in the rich soil, damp from rain, as Rachel found as many earthworms as she could and named them things like “Phyllis” and “Dewberry”. She had also taken to cooking with Thomas, and Alex could sit and recline there at the table in the kitchen with his cup of coffee and just watch them with a light smile on his lips for hours. Thomas stood over her, a huge had on her tiny back as she stood up on the stool to stir inside the pot. Thomas handed her the ingredients to pour in--her favorite part--that or rolling messy, floury dough up on the counter, always listing to her the instructions. 

Outside of raising a child, there were hardships that Thomas and Alexander had to go through as husbands and politicians. A president and vice president with radically different political views for the most part wasn’t just going to resolve as soon as they were married like a damn magic trick. They had to learn to solve their differences with compromises rather than fights, but it was never easy. The jobs they had were extremely difficult themselves, but their marriage only helped to strengthen them as a pair. Having a difference of views was healthy, in fact, so that they each heard the other side loud and clear without holding anything back or trying to be extra polite. It was a rare opportunity that they took advantage of, even if it wasn’t always easy. 

After a long road of four years, Thomas and Alexander finally established women’s rights and suffrage. They actively worked to ban slavery at a constant rate, and it was a reality that was slowly, slowly becoming true, no matter how unfair it was that it shouldn’t just be banned immediately due to the simple logic of human rights. Their next mission would be against the anti-sodomy laws and culture. One day… one day....

Not to mention that in the public eye, they had to be seen with their past wives as their spouses. The bond between Martha, Thomas, Alexander, and Eliza only strengthened as they learned the importance of friendship between one another. Helping each other and their children survive.

Through all the work, all the writing and cabinet battles and governmental politics, their little Rey-Rey was a reminder of who they were building the future for--who they were doing all of it for in the first place. The three knew each other  _ so  _ well--they could sense the mood of one another with less than a glance. 

It was so bittersweet and heart-aching to see Rachel knocking on their office door when she knew they had been working too long or had a disagreement. She’d step inside with something for them, a collection of clovers, weeds, and dandelion tufts she’d collected just for them from the garden, never anything pretty, but it always held more meaning than just a simple pretty flower. 

Sometimes, it was just Lexi that she brough in to cheer them up, and they would come down from their office when they realized they needed a break. They’d all curl up under the same blanket by the fire, drinking hot cocoa and cuddling as they read Rachel’s favorite time and time again--Gulliver’s Travels--beneath the painting of Thomas and Alexander side-by-side. The painting they cherished above all other possessions. Every glance at it reminded them that their love was stronger than those against it.

Their baby had a kind heart around all the mischief, and she was such a balance between the both of them, even if it could be hard at times to have two dads that ran a country that couldn’t even know they were together. 

But with her passions and her fathers’ passion for her, they always made it through. There were bound to be rough patches, but the love between the trio got them through it every single time.

Today was one of those days that seemed blissfully like another adventure to come. 

With Alex’s intellectual curiosity and Thomas’s love for animals and the outdoors, it was a given that she loved to go exploring. And it was a given that her dads took every chance they could to go with her. 

And today was a special day for the trio, the little family that had lived together in that house for four years now. Today was Thomas’s birthday, and Rachel had planned out everything for him with Alexander, but mostly bossing Alexander around: she babbled the orders in an organized order--assuming full and serious authority-- and Alexander would act as professional and serious as if she were a governor in a meeting with him, writing them down on a list. Playing along was essential for him to encourage her assertiveness. 

Rachel wanted to go camping out by the lake, and since his birthday fell on a Friday, it was perfect. They could spend the whole weekend out there, just the three of them, swimming; collecting little bugs, pieces of Mica, and feathers as they walked; laying out lazily in the warm spring sun in a quilt in the grass, Thomas and Alexander cuddling and sleeping in the sun--exhausted--while Rachel played on the bank. 

Alex had secretly left work early to set up the tent and get the horses ready with Rachel in the lead, sneaking down all of their clothes they would need to the tent so that nobody had to pack. It was perfect; everything was in place. 

Now, Alex hung out with her as Thomas finished up a boatload of work he had on his back, still shut up in his office since he got home from his meetings. 

Alex sat up on the couch, a drawing pad in his lap as Rachel stood up on her knees on the carpet, scribbling onto a sheet of parchment with nubs of wax crayons spread around her on the low table and floor. He looked up from his own work, peering over her shoulder. 

“What’re you drawing, buttercup?” he inquired, looking back down to his drawing as he continued. She didn’t even pause as she answered.    
“You. With a butt for a head.” she set down one crayon and glided her hand over the table, grabbing the first one she found and picking it up in her tiny hand to keep scribbling. 

Alex lifted his chin, still concentrating on his drawing, “Oh. What a coincidence.” he huffed, seemingly unamused as he finished a graceful stroke with his wax crayon and looked up. He uncrossed his legs and flipped his pad around to show her. He twitched a brow challengingly, “I drew you with a butt for a head too.” 

She turned around and scowled, dark eyes darting all over his childish rendering.    
“Why?”    
“Why do you think?” Alex smiled, “Butthead.” and her face broke out into one too. 

She had all of her baby teeth at his point, and he’d noted that she had Thomas’s prominent canines, which were simply  _ adorable _ . She giggled at the word, a squeaky sound like an angel laughing. She turned around clumsily on her knees to face him, and fell back down, sitting on her heels and bounced. Her braid had fallen out a while ago when they were wrestling, and Thomas would have to put it up. For now, her black hair spilled over his shoulders, wavy. 

“Butthead.” she spat the word at him with a smile still on her face, just to hear herself say it. Alex set his drawing pad down and bent over, picking her up by her underarms and sitting her between his knees on the couch as he leaned forward over her, dragging her drawing across the table and between his fingers. She squirmed, getting comfortable and crossing her little legs. Alex held the drawing in front of them, and widened his eyes, exhaling with puffed cheeks. 

“Geez. I see a lot of  _ butt  _ and not a lot of anything else.”    
“Yeah. Like you.” She giggled, and Alex’s face spread with a glowing smile. He leaned down to place his chin on top of her head, perching there for a moment.

“I trained you well, young apprentice.” he grinned, pressing a kiss to her head before ruffling up her hair. 

“But.” he sang, rocking her back and forth in his lap. He smiled slyly,  “Maybe I should’ve drawn you with  _ willlliam _ .” Alexander sang, swooning a bit with his voice. 

“No!” she cried out, angry, and tried to escape cause she knew where this was going, but Alexander held her against his chest and swung her back and forth in his arms, forcing her to giggle. 

“Willy Willy William. Your true love. You want to kiiiiiiss him.” Alex puckered his lips with kissy sounds and leaned down to kiss her cheek, but she cringed away, squealing. 

“Ew! Da!” she called out the address she used for Thomas, hoping for backup. William was Hercules Mulligan’s son--not to be confused with William, Rachel's half-brother--who came over to play with the rest of the toddlers, and Alexander teased Rachel  _ all  _ the time with a little crush that she  _ hated _ .

Alex smirked, still teasing, “No, no. He can’t save you now. Your Da had a crush too, just like you.”

“Gross!” She tried to stand up, but Alex held her to his body, still rocking them both side to side as he squeezed her.   
“Oh, you bet.” Alex lifted his chin and raised his voice, “You had a crush on someone, didn’t you, Da?” he called out, cocking his ear for an answer.

In the silence, there was a prolonged,  _ very  _ lengthy exhale; you could almost  _ hear  _ Thomas taking off his glasses and rubbing his nose.    
“You, Alexander.” he monotone dryly, “We’re married.” his response was muffled, and Alex smiled and paid him no mind, turning his face back down to Rachel.

“Mhmmmm.” he sang, “Kissy kissy kissy.”   
He let her break free for her own encouragement, and she bowled into him.    
“Gah! Don’t hurt me!” he exaggerated his stress and fell down, laying on the couch for her to clamber on top of him. 

“I’m… gonna make Da come get you.” She panted, breathing with excitement as she sat up on Alex’s belly, her skirt splayed out on his waistcoat. Alex grinned up at her face, outlined by the golden evening sun. God… she looked just like them. Alexander shook his head, letting his arms settle on her thighs to squeeze them. 

“He won’t because he’s being a,” He raised his voice again, looking in the office’s direction, “butthead.” he called, loud enough for Thomas to hear. Alex looked back at Rachel with a straight face and squeezed her thighs again, basically tickling them, and she  _ jerked,  _ squealing a high laugh.   
“Go get your dummy dad and make him come out here. Time to show him your present.” 

He stopped tickling her when she bounced up in excitement with this little happiness noise that was her trademark, putting both her pudgy hands down on Alex’s chest to swing her leg off of him. 

“Careful.” he grumbled, still laying on his back as he watched her hop down from the couch and thunder with her bare feet on the floor, running off towards the office with her hair bouncing on her shoulders, her dress swishing around her knees. Alexander sighed, taking a moment to lay there before sitting up with a grunt and swiveling his legs off the couch. With a deep contentment in his heart, he began to collect and clean up their art supplies but left it out for next time. He could hear the deep base sound of Thomas’s voice through the walls and the scratching of a chair on hardwood, and Alex sat back up on the couch, leaning sideways into the arm and relaxing. 

“Dadda! Look what I drew.”   
The voice squeaked as footsteps approached into the room, and Alex turned his head to see Thomas and Rachel hand-in-hand as they walked into the room. She  _ loved  _ to do this with Thomas: she would stand on his shoes and reach her hands above her head to hold his, and he’d walk for the both of them. That was how they entered the room now, Thomas still wearing his reading glasses that Alex adored. The vice president’s face split into a grin. 

“Don’t look at what she drew.”   
“Look!” she laughed highly, breaking free for a moment and scampering to the table to bend her knees and point at her painting, hair falling over her shoulders as she smiled. Thomas approached and crouched down to her height, pulling her up onto his knee to sit. He squinted down at the drawing and nodded his head with an interested grunt. 

“Hm. It’s daddy.” he noted. He tilted his head to look in her eyes, “you’re good, Rey-Rey. I see it.”   
“How did you…?” Alex gaped, looking with parted lips from Thomas to the drawing. The president smiled across at his husband.

“It’s a butt, Alexander. I know a butt when I see one.” he smirked, and Rachel squirmed on his knee, getting impatient. 

“She’s mean, man.” Alex shook his head, flopping back into the couch, “you’re both mean.” 

“Wonder where she got it from.” Thomas just kept on grinning, and Alexander cursed his husband for the fact that it was contagious. Alex stuck his tongue out with a dirty look, which received a warning one back from Thomas. Rachel didn’t see their little exchange from the man in charge to his husband, and instead she bounced on Thomas’s leg. 

“Can I tell, daddy?” she addressed Alexander, blinking up at him with those beautiful dark eyes, wide and round that he could never resist even if he wanted to. Thomas’s brows flickered down with curiosity, eyes darting to Alex too. They met in a moment of questioning. 

“Tell me what?”   
Alexander sighed, crossing his legs. This moment was for Rey, so he let it be, “Go ahead, buttercup.” he dipped his head to his daughter and she inhaled, wiggling to try and turn around and face Thomas. 

“I can sense this is a long one. Up.” Thomas rumbled, lifting Rachel to sit up on his hip as he stood from his crouching position and strode over to the couch. With a big inhale, Rachel was already prepared to start talking, and the words came out in a gasping flow. 

“For your birthday, me and daddy put up the big tent and the horses,” she took another gulp of air as Thomas turned around and lowered himself next to Alexander, “And your clothes and snacks and the boat.” she went on, Thomas bouncing her comfortably in his lap to face him, “And we’re gonna explore and swim. For your birthday.” She reiterated. Thomas’s face opened up with a  _ glowing  _ grin, teeth and all that he only reserved for Rachel. He looked at Alex for a moment. 

“You two did not.”    
Alexander shrugged, throwing an arm over the back of the couch. 

“It was mostly Rey. She made all the plans.”   
“Did you really?” Thomas turned his attention back to her, linking his hands behind her back. She nodded rapidly, reflecting his smile with  _ mirror _ -like precision, those cute little canines just like Thomas. 

“Yeah. We can go now.”   
“When you’re ready, babe.” Alex corrected, letting Thomas know that if he had essential work to do, they could wait an hour. He was president after all. Thomas scooted back further onto the couch. 

“Go get your shoes, buttercup. And make sure Lexi has enough to eat.”   
“Can she come, Da?”   
“Not a chance. Up you go.” Thomas lifted her down from his lap, and she hit the ground running, sprinting off with the little patter of feet to her room. 

“Don’t leave without me!” she called, voice bouncing with her heavy steps as she ran. Both her dads watch her run off for a moment before Alex turned back to see Thomas looking at him. Innately, Alex smiled like a fucking dork.   
“What?”   
“You left work early, didn’t you?” Thomas smiled knowingly, and Alex gave a sly little shrug.    
“Come on. She was so excited, saying no would probably be a sin.” 

“Correct.” Thomas mumbled, scooting closer to him, and Alex sat up, turning his whole body in Thomas’s direction. Thomas pressed his body against Alexander’s and gazed down into his eyes.    
“For what it’s worth, I think you two just made this the best birthday of my life.”   
“Damn right, old man.” Alex smiled, closing his eyes for a kiss on the lips. Thomas laid his arm across Alexander’s shoulders and pressed against his soft lips, pulling away from it a bit early.    
“Mr. Vice President, I am turning twenty-six years old. I’m three hours into the first day of my late twenties.” 

“Old-ass man.” 

“Shut up and kiss me, you spoiled bitch.” Thomas dipped his face down for an open-mouthed kiss this time, lapping against Alexander’s soft, warm tongue. Alex opened and closed once, slowly, before speaking again.    
“Watch your language.”   
“Watch your attitude. And you’re one to talk.”   
“I thought we said we wouldn’t bring that up again.”

“Bring what up again?” Thomas asked rhetorically, blinking down into Alex’s gaze and cocking his head, “When we were at  _ President George Washington’s  _ anniversary party and he wanted to know why he heard Rachel saying the word ‘orgasm’ to Eleanor, and I called you over only for you to say--and I quote-- ‘What’s an orgasm?’.” 

Alex snickered immaturely, unable to stifle it as Thomas raised a brow at him. He paused.    
“Oh come on,  _ that  _ was funny.”   
“That was  _ not  _ funny. It was humiliating.” Thomas growled holding Alexander’s chin now so he couldn’t look away, “You’re the one who likes to be humiliated; I’m the one that does the humiliating. Not the other way around.” 

“I’m aware. You’ve successfully jerked me off in six Cabinet meetings to date.” 

“And counting, you little brat.”   
“ _ Your  _ little brat.” Alex smiled coyly, their lips brushing as Alex flicked the tip of his tongue over Thomas’s bottom lip, tasting it before Thomas closed over his tongue, pulling it into his mouth to devour. 

“Ew!” A little voice caused them to break off, and Alex’s head snapped to the side where Rachel stood. He scowled in faux annoyance, “Excuse me. A little privacy?”   
“No. You get up. And learn to be decent.”   
“Huh.” Alex frowned in consideration, raising his eyebrows to look at Thomas, “That’s a new one. Wonder where she learned it.”   
“Come on, we don’t have all day.” she commanded adorably and came around the side of the couch to yank at Thomas’s hand. He stood with an exaggerated grunt, scooping her up into his arms, rolling her up, and burying his face in her belly, pretending to viciously eat her up with a muffled growling sound. She screamed, squealing madly and flailing, but Thomas was relentless. 

The day was strangely hot for April, but to Alexander who was almost always cold, it was perfection. Thin stripes of wispy clouds painted the sky as they trekked down the path to the stables, where Alex and Rachel had already tacked up all three horses. Well, one horse and two ponies. Alexander’s Morelle was the only steed Alexander loved to ride, and Rachel was too independent to ride up with him or Thomas anymore (as she had voiced). 

Being the father that Thomas was, he had gotten her her own miniature pony that she quickly dubbed “Bob” of all names, despite the fact that the pony was female. She didn’t care; she thought it was the perfect name the first time she had pet the mane. Still, Thomas wouldn’t let her off on her own yet, not a chance in his mind; he was far too protective for that. He attached a lead rein from Tarquin all the way down to Bob so that Rachel was riding beside him, Bob’s little legs trying her very best to keep up with Tarquin, who looked down on her as if she was an evolutionary disgrace. 

Rachel seemed to have no lack of energy or talking capacity when they had set off on the trail, Alex in the lead with his husband and daughter behind him. 

“Hold the reins tighter, angel.”   
“Why?”   
“So that if she tosses her head they won’t come out of your hands.”    
“Will you play pirates with me and daddy when we get there.”   
“Yes, but we have to tie up the horses and change.”   
“Why?   
“Or else they’ll run away into the woods and you’ll get your dress wet. You don’t want to swim in a dress.”   
“Why not?”   
“Why don’t you think?”

“Umm…” she thought, a bit surprised when Thomas did this, which he did often--switching the question back on her to make her think. Often, her imagination kicked in right then.    
“Or else the fishes will snatch me.”

“That’s right.” Thomas burst through a laugh that Alex shared quietly from the front, “And eat you up.”   
“No they won’t! I’ll bop them on the head, and we’ll eat them for dinner. Can we eat fish for dinner, Dadda?”

The questions wet on and on, a constant sort of banter that nobody tired of as the golden shafts of sunlight slanted through the trees, warming their backs and casting dapples onto the forest trail. The squeaky little voice continued, ringing through the forest and adding to the chorus of spring insects and birds as they finally arrived at the clearing--the same clearing they had gotten married in four years ago. Sometimes… it felt like it was yesterday. Thomas dismounted with a huff, lifting his chin to call to Alex as he tethered Tarquin to the usual pegs they had hammered into a wide tree for the horses. 

“Honey, lead Rachel over here.” because Thomas had let her off the lead rein and now she was trying to get Bob to trot along the bank. Alexander landed his feet heavily in the grass and led Morelle, handing the white horse to Thomas as he quickly jogged off after Rachel down the slight slope, hair bouncing at his shoulders. 

When her dads had finally roped up poor, exhausted Bob and lifted Rachel down from her steed’s back, she immediately ran off to the bank where the tiny raft was sitting amongst the reeds, bobbing.

“Daddy, help me push it off.”   
“You can do it yourself, sweetie, or wait for me and Da to be done setting out the blanket.”   
“Dadda, help.”   
“You heard your father.” he commanded, “And come up here and change your clothes, you can’t swim in your dress.”

Alex was ducked inside the tent and handed the rolled up quilt behind him to Thomas before backing out, but Thomas was staring off at the lake where Rachel was.

“Aaaaand she’s commando.” Thomas sighed, taking the blanket and trudging in the rustling grass as Alex wheezed, “Any particular reason you’re naked, Rey?” he called loudly, but there was no response. 

“Fantastic.” Thomas huffed and tossed the blanket over to Alexander, who was still losing his shit, “You, shut up. I’m going to put pants on your nudist kid.”   
“ _ Our  _ nudist kid.”   
Alex gazed up at Thomas with a smile as the taller trekked towards the bank with a barking, “Hey. Get that naked butt over here.” 

After quite some chasing, clothes were on and shirts were off, Thomas easing Alex into the water as the Caribbean man held his arms up away from the cold, Spring liquid which was mostly melted ice that had come down a long way from the cool river which fed the lake. There was a wooden pole in the water that Thomas kept the tiny canoe of sorts anchored to, but when they all played, they let it off to push and swim her around, teaching her to tread water and doggy paddle back and forth between them. 

Thomas, Alex, boat, Thomas, Alex, boat--she seemed to have endless energy, but her dads were coming off a long work day, so they did what they could for two hours.

Eventually, the adults climbed out of the water, trickles streaming off of them into the grass as they dried themselves with towels and retired to the sun-warmed quilt they had set out right on the bank so that they could see Rey playing six feet away, little boat tethered to the pole. She continued to splash, droplets iridescent in the falling sun, her black, raven hair splayed out on her bare shoulders, sticking to her, but she paid it no mind. Thomas would have to re-braid it soon when she was tired and needed to go to bed, which had to be soon as the sun was about to set. 

For now, the parents were cuddled, collapsed on the quilt and basking in the sun. The heat didn’t help either of them to stay awake, but Thomas offered to take the ‘first shift’ and keep an eye on Rachel as Alex dozed off, head on his chest and curled up against his body, skin-on-skin. Sleeping Alex only heard the deep rumbling of, “Wow, good job, buttercup.” and “Do it again.” from Thomas, whom was often asked “Da, look! Da, look, look!” from their toddler. Not to mention the soothing, relaxing stroke of Thomas’s fingers down the nape of his neck and in his hair, toying at it and putting him right to sleep. 

Thomas was calm just watching his daughter play in the sun and hold his sleeping husband, play with his hair. He loved both of them, and he would savor this day of pure carelessness and every one to follow. 

As the sun set and Thomas lit up the fire in front of the tent, moving the blanket up there too so they could lay out and watch the stars, Rachel grew more and more sleepy. Like Alexander, she never liked to show it, but she was worn-out. The sky darkened to show a sharp little crescent moon and a sky full of stars, dusting and dotting the darkness like pinpricks in the veil of the universe, a wide galaxy above their heads.   
With a shower of sparks, Thomas threw another branch onto the steadily crackling fire, a green part popping.

“You tired, baby?” he inquired, leaning back to look at her, seated in Alex’s lap with a thick towel wrapped around her tiny body that was illuminated in the orange, flickering light, warming her young face with heavy lids slipping down over her ebony eyes. 

She shook her head slowly, but just ended up nodding off a bit, lids slipping fully closed. 

“No?”   
“Mm m.” she denied, leaning back into Alexander’s belly.    
“Yeah. She’s wiped.” Alexander ran a hand over her slightly damp head, feeling her forehead to make sure she was warm enough, “Wore yourself out, didn’t you?” he spoke to her and leaned down to press a quick kiss to her soft head, running his hand over it again. Thomas sighed, pulling his coat over himself tighter.

“Alright. Come here, angel, let me put up your hair before you collapse.” He didn’t want to have to do it in the morning when it would be dried into place and too tangled to comprehend. 

She didn’t even protest as Thomas leaned to the side and lifted her from Alex’s grasp, setting her into his cross-legged lap and hugging her against his body for a few quiet moments before he started. Thomas didn't know Alex was watching as he squeezed her carefully, leaning his head down to whisper that he loves her more than the world. She responded with a tired, but _oh _so genuine "I love you, Dadda" that melted Alex's heart, and Thomas kissed the top of her head with his eyes closed. And again, breathing in her sent and holding her close. 

Finally after all the loving, he started at the bottom and began to detangle, Rey's eyes falling closed again.

However… as he moved, Alexander noticed a yellow slip of parchment peeking out of the inside of his coat. His brows furrowed down. It looked old, aged a bit, but he could only see the corner. Without even asking beforehand, he parted his lips and extended his fingers forth, closing around the corner of the paper.

“Hey, Thomas what’s--” he pulled it loose just as Thomas twisted around a bit to look down on what Alex was doing. When he realized Alexander had pulled out what he had been carrying in his coat, his heart stopped. Time seemed to slow down, stomach plummeting, mood growing heavier with every second as Alex moved the letter up to the firelight.

“Alexander…” Thomas trailed off uselessly, watching Alex tint it in the light, watching it glint off the old torn wax of the dark seal. 

The Burr seal. 

There was nothing but the silence between them; despite the nighttime chorus of tree frogs and crickets, the crackling of their fire, there was nothing. 

Without a word from either of them, Rachel falling asleep against Thomas whose fingers were still weaving her hair, Alex’s fingers slowly lifted the flap of the envelope. 

In quiet, shuffling movements, he shimmied the letter itself out, letting the envelope drift down and fall into his lap, abandoned. Not expecting this, his heart hammered in his chest, expecting the absolute worst, dreading the worst possible scenario. It couldn't be. Unfolding the crinkling parchment, all he could hear was the blood roaring in his ears; all he could see was visions of his old enemy returning to tear them apart, tear Rachel from them. Not Rachel...

With a dry mouth and trembling fingers, his eyes scanned rapidly over the letter's dark ink. 

But then... he stopped. His brows twitched. Thomas's rumbling voice sounded again.   


"It's... the letter you got on that night. From Burr." he explained, "I found it when I was looking through my old things in the office today." he cleared his throat, unsure of himself, "The letter... requesting you duel with him at Weehawken." 

The name of the place seemed to echo in each of their heads. For a long time, Alexander had nothing to say. There _was _nothing to say. As his heartbeat slowed, his adrenaline dropping back to normal, the calming sounds of the nights seeped back into his mind, putting it to rest. He swallowed, remembering where he was. It was now. They were okay. Rachel was okay.

"Wow..." he breathed, a nervous smile finding his lips as he separated his eyes from the content of the letter and carefully, quietly folded it up once more.   
"That was along time ago. I... didn't think we still had it."  


"Neither did I. I was going to ask what you wanted to do with it, but you two surprised me with this, and I forgot." he moved his fingers in Rachel's hair, still looking over at Alexander. He dipped his head, "What... _do _you want to do with it?" he asked, uncertain. For a full minute, Alex just stared at the envelope in his hands, the dark seal and crest. The object was so familiar, but... it was so far away. It felt like another lifetime that he had touched this letter. That he had opened it and almost left Thomas for that cliffside to end things once and for all. It seemed another lifetime ago that he had thought that was their only option to put a stop to the madness. 

After a long time, Alexander slowly leaned into Thomas, resting his head carefully down on his shoulder. He pressed his side up against his husbands and closed his eyes... deeply breathing in the scent of the forest around them, the water lapping up on the lake, the aroma of burning firewood. And he just listened to Thomas breathe. When he opened his eyes again, they settled on the fire, licking the browning branches and dancing against the night. He rotated the letter in his hand, feeling the dryness of the parchment, the weight within that letter.

"I think it's time." he nodded to himself, and carefully, deliberately, he reached forward to drop the letter into the flames. In a few moments, a tendril found the new source of kindling and latched onto it. Both men shuffled closer to one another, watching as it began to slowly brown over and curl in on itself, "Time to forgive once and for all. And move on." he finished quietly, and to his own surprise, a deep, reverberating joy spread from his heart into his chest, warming him.

With a smile on his lips, he pressed against Thomas and leaned back, coaxing him to lay down on the quilt. With a steady hand, Thomas laid Rachel down on his belly and chest, belly-to-belly as she already slept, eyelids twitching with dreams. 

With a rustle of fabric and blankets, Alex laid his head on top of Thomas's shoulder, and the taller curled his arm around his little husband, pulling him close against his body. There was a calming sense of peace about both of them--contentedness. Rachel rose and fell, and both watched her for a few moments, taking her in. She was a miracle. And on that night four years ago, Alexander had made the final choice to stay. To watch her grow up.

That was something he would _never_... _never _regret. 

Thomas inhaled deeply, finding a smile as he tilted his head to the side, letting it fall to see Alexander's. 

"There's... always going to be another Burr." he sighed, pursing his lips, "Another Burr with another name. I wish it weren't true. But it is."  
"I know." Alexander held his hand, feeling the electricity surge between them as it always did, "It's never going to be perfect. No matter what we do."   
"I know." Thomas responded to a conversation that seemed like it would be morbid. But... they were content. They were at peace.

Alexander inhaled a deep breath, and let out a sigh, turning his face up towards the stars. There were so many up there, glinting and winking... they shone off the darkness of Rachel's hair, her long braid spilling like a waterfall over her side. And suddenly under the great vastness of the universe, Alexander felt the opposite of small. He was whole. Here, in _this _moment, he was all he ever wanted to be. 

A content smile rested on his face, and he looked back at Thomas's, speaking out of the blue.

"You know the saying... 'everything will be okay in the end. And if it isn't okay, then it isn't the end'."  
Thomas blinked, taking in his husband's face, "I do." 

"Well...It's funny..." Alex squeezed Thomas's hand, feeling the warmth in his own, "I don't even mind if everything's not okay." he nodded, and for some reason, tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. Tears of pure joy... of pure relief. His throat constricted, and he looked at Rachel...

"Because I sure don't want it to end." he smiled and looked back to Thomas, who had one hand on their daughter's back... their little girl... their miracle.

The fire crackled peacefully in front of them, the forest woodlands hummed with the life of a new Spring, a new beginning. The dawn would approach eventually, but for now, it was just them. Just them... time didn't have to pass. Everything could just stay like this. It wasn't going anywhere. It wasn't going anywhere...

Without a moment's thought, only a smile, the two lovers came together for a deep, tender kiss. Lips pressed together, eyes closed, they stayed like that for a long time, listening to one another breathe, holding hands like they would never let go. 

Above them, the sky was open; the night was dotted with starlight. And overhead, the glowing sparks of that letter twirled up... up... into the night sky, swirling as embers, fading into nothing.

Fading into the past. 

A clear sky... a sky full of stars. A family resting beneath its embrace. 

It didn't look like it would rain for a long... long time. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 🚨WAIT🚨: it doesn't have to end here! If you want more Jamilton, I'm writing my second fic, 🚨 "The Hamilton Files" 🚨! If you're looking for LOTS more smut, love, and plot updated weekly, check it out if you'd like! I'd love nothing more than to continue my journey with you, readers!


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